The Timeline Chronology
by spade-of-hearts
Summary: From the NES to the Wii U, here are a list of humorous stories following the chronological timeline of the Legend of Zelda. Find your favorites or read them all! Who knows what you might find in this blast to the past?
1. The Legend of Larsony

**Welcome one, welcome all to The Timeline Chronology!**

 **Surprisingly, this story came about when I was procrastinating writing my other Legend of Zelda story,** **Remnants** **. Which, if you end up liking this story, I'd highly recommend you go check out. :)**

 **Basically, the premise of this story is that I'm going to write a story for each of the Legend of Zelda games. (Note: The canon ones! Although I dabble in a few of the non-canon games...) They'll be humorous and pretty short, so if you're in for a quick read on your favorite Zelda games, read on!**

 **We begin with The Legend of Zelda...**

Hi, I'm here to file a complaint about the punk who stole my sword.

Yes, I know there's a lot of punks around here, but this one's the lead punk. The king punk. The punk-to-end-all-punks.

I am not getting off track! Sorry, let me continue with my tale of woe.

You might know my company from the commercials, office – you know, "It's Dangerous to Go Alone, try the Old Man Brand swords to fight off those pesky enemies!" With that stupid little jingle I thought would be catchy at the time and I regretted the moment it went on air. Yes, that one.

Well, our main venue is this little cave, that's where I started my craft. I tell you, officer, I'm a darned good swordsmith, I've been in this business for a while now, and I don't mess around. Only the best for the Old Man Brand, that's what my old man used to say. No pun intended, officer.

Okay, I'll get to the crime. I had just laid out a new sword for the pickings, hadn't even put on a price tag or anything. My swords are nice, but they ain't cheap, but I'm expecting a few customers that day, so I just leave it out there and I'll negotiate with the buyer.

Then the Punk walks in.

Can I ID him? Sure. Funny-looking fellow, crazy getup, with some tunic and boots and a strange windsock hat. The things kids will to do get attention these days are astounding. Made me stare a little as he walked in, just as you please, straight through the door.

I was so shocked by his strange appearance I didn't even launch into the whole "Welcome to Old Man Brand Swordsmithy, how may I help you?" spiel. Gaped at him a little bit to be honest, just stood there as he came in. He was wandering around the shop for a while too, and it's pretty bare besides a few torches to the side – mood lighting, officer. He walks right up to them and stands there, then when he realizes there aren't secret passages behind them or something he walks up to me, right in front of the sword.

And you know what that Punk does, officer?

He straight-up takes the sword in his hand and steals it!

Not like he was trying to conceal it or anything, held it over his head like an idiot, just in case I couldn't see him. Worst shoplifter ever. I guess it was my fault for not putting a price tag on it, but that doesn't mean it's free for the taking!

Yes, officer, I'll calm down.

After he puts the sword down – yes, he was holding it over his head, as I said before, then I barely manage to squeak out, "It's Dangerous to Go Alone, take this!" The company motto, you'll understand. Don't know what possessed me, but that's what you're supposed to say when a customer buys a product. So the Punk takes the sword!

No wallet, officer. Doubt he had a rupee on him. Looked like the slacker type, too. Who wears a hat like that, anyways?

Before I can stop him the Punk is walking to the door. The whole experience was so unreal I just watched him go, didn't even try to stop him as he left. In seconds he was out the door and gone.

No, I did not just let him go. I tried to chase him down, but nearby there are monsters and he had just taken my only weapon, mind you. So I'm stuck defenseless in my store, and there are customers coming soon.

Where do I think he is now? Wreaking havoc on other responsible salesmen, that's what. You'll find a trail of stolen goods and dead monsters in his wake. Little Punk. Kids these days, officer. Don't have any courtesy left in them. You know, he didn't even say a word to me during the whole ordeal. Just popped in, stole my sword, and waltzed out like the Hero of Time himself.

You want me to elaborate on him some more? How many weirdo Punks are there in this realm?

Fine. When he first came in I saw his tunic first – bright green, gaudy, if you ask me. I'm a more muted-colors guy. More businesslike, that's how I see it. Bet that Punk never worked a day in his life.

Hair? Brown, I think. It was hidden in his stupid little cap I told you about. The hat? Long, draped down over his head like this. Can I draw you a picture? Sure, like _this._ Sorry, I'm a swordsmith, not an artist. You'd recognize him in an instant with that ridiculous outfit.

Pants? Funnily enough, he was wearing these strange white leggings. I know, officer, crazy, right? No self-respecting young man goes out dressed like that! And the shoes? Boots, rose to about here on his leg. Yes, brown. How would I know to make a plaster cast of the shoeprint? No, I don't have plaster of paris in my shop.

You want to know what he looked like when he came in? Admittedly, a little spacey. Wandered around a little bit, and I wondered to myself if he wasn't playing with a full deck, you know? Especially when he went up to the torch and stared at it for a while. Odd. You don't have any escaped mentally ill patients with that ID? No?

He didn't steal anything else. My store is kind of small, more like a boutique, so unless he wanted to steal those torches he was so fascinated with there wasn't much else to swipe. No threats, no nothing. Like I said, didn't even speak.

Do you have a lineup of suspects? You haven't rounded up anyone yet? I know the law is doing the best they can, officer, but can't you pick up the pace? I have angry customers to appease and a Punk to catch?

Yes, I can go back to the shop. I'll keep you updated if the Punk comes back.

You'll contact me with any news? Thank you for your time, officer. Please, do Old Man Brand a solid and catch that Punk!

 **So, what do you think? Gives the old man in the cave a new perspective, huh?**

 **Since I'm dual-posting today you might want to check out the next story for Zelda II. I think it's pretty cool... But go see for yourself!**

 **By the way, type what you think so far in the review box! I love to hear from you!**

 **Until next time! (Which, in this case, should be two seconds.)**


	2. Zelda II: The Adventure of ERROR

**Coming back for more, are we? Can't blame you! (Just kidding)**

 **There's not much more to put here except we now travel to Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. Enjoy!**

Ruto Town is normal enough, as towns go. Citizens talking in choppy sentences, an annoying repetitive songs echoing throughout the whole place, and that same odd air of mystery. Who knows what this town will hold?

The house is unassuming, to say the least. Brownstone, not unusual in the slightest. If normalcy had an official color it would be this, that boring, textured brown. A door is set in the right side of the house, but I continue on. Whatever boring things are in that boring house I don't care to visit.

A young lady stands by another dreary, normal-looking house, and urges me to go visit her uncle, since I saved some sort of statue. After saving so many things for so long you kind of forget exactly what you've saved, but I'm grateful all the same. Still, can't visiting the uncle wait? This town has to have _something_ interesting in it, not just buildings and uncles.

I wander past another woman, dressed in purple and looking anxious, who urges me not to go south without a candle. _Great advice, lady_. Not like I can tell her that, of course. Heroes have a reputation.

Maybe I was wrong about the air of mystery – time to go check out the boring houses.

The first brownstone house is easily the smallest in the village, so I don't really expect to find anything helpful there. Sword upgrades and rupees are great, but a random citizen telling me that they lost their wallet? Not so helpful. I descend a short set of stairs and emerge in another room underground.

Unlike the boring brownstone above, this room is red brick, and has windows for some odd reason, even though all you can see is dirt. As furnishings go, it's very plain, with a single table in the corner and a man standing beside it. He looks as boring as his house, dressed in a curious purple garb that barely covers his potbelly. He might hold information, though, so I need to speak to him.

Cautiously I approach the man, suddenly wary. The setting is so very ordinary it unnerves me, or maybe it's the man standing there, so still, like he's frozen solid. I wish I could pull out my sword and prod him with it, just to make sure he's alive, but I still have a reputation to maintain, even in underground brownstone buildings. I take a step closer.

The room is charged with tension as I walk over to the man, each step echoing around the brick walls. Still he remains motionless, watching me progress with blank eyes. Finally I realize I'm being ridiculous and step in front of him.

Slowly the man unfreezes, opening his jaw to speak. "I AM ERROR." His voice is low and gravelly, like the hiss of a snake, then his mouth clamps shut and he's frozen again, like a statue.

 _Error? What kind of name is Error?_ But, I chide myself, I can't say that to a kind, if simpleminded villager.

I pause for a second to see if Error has anything more to say, but he's still frozen/zen/zen.

 _What was that?_

I whirl and face Error again, but he hasn't moved, like I guessed. Is it just my imagination, or is a faint smile playing at his lips?

No. Impossible.

 _(left)_

I turn mindlessly and start towards the exit, then realize that it wasn't me who moved.

Wait, stop. What is going on?

 _(left)_

My boots raise from the ground as I try to move again, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stay in placcccclacelacee. The room shifts beside me until I'm seeing double, two Errors, two tables, two doors. The walls waver, colors flashing before my eyes, blindingly fast.

 _(left)_

More urgently now. I take the step backward, and the lights fade. The room is normal again, as normal as could possibly be. No wavering walls. Just Error and his table.

Error is definitely smiling now.

UnnErvEd, I continuE towards thE door, wanting to leave Error and his strangE magic as soon as I can.

But hE doEsn't want to let mE go, doEs he?

 _(right right right)_

I can't rEsist it this timE, thE pull back to Error's sidE. A wickEd grin crossEs his facE, or maybE I'm imagining.

"I AM ERROR." He repeats, and the world takes a sickening spin.

 _(left left)_

I stumble away, reeling back. EV3rY7hin6 iis.s ddd1s5oLVINg.

WH4t i5 G014n6 0n/N? WHa1 i5 H3../ D01N66G66?

 _Flatline._

EvEryThinG IS daRK. I'm nOt/neiTHer/NOr/nEvEr In tHE tOWN aNyMOre. My BoOtS dON't toUch tHe groUNd/StONE/bRICKKKK...

 _(left left leftleftleft)_

IT wAS ErR0r. W441 d1D H3 D0? W44t 13 hAPp3N1nG t0 M3?

S0 Ddd/dark. Lik3 p1tCH/S0liD sT0N3. N3v3R S333333n/l00kED 4T AnyTh1ing s0 Dar...(k) B3f0r3.

A concussive force jolts me back to my senses. Light streams in. It's not sunlight, but fake, abrasive. Tinny, canned music pours in all around me, garbled and choppy. The light flickers and fades, then leaps up like the tongue of a flame.

 _(upupdowndownleftrightleftrightBAStart)_

Hands holding something, thumbs drumming a beat against the plastic.

"Hey, Dad! The NES is on the fritz again!"

 _(power: off)_

And then there's nothing.

 **I should probably note that there won't be a set-in-stone update day for these, since they're kind of side-projects right now.**

 **What did you think of this one? I'm actually kind of proud of it, but you tell me otherwise if you think so fit. What do you like/dislike? Any ideas for upcoming games? I'm all ears for that one. If you review don't forget to add your favorite Zelda game!**

 **That's all for today, dear reader. Until next time!**


	3. A Link to the Past: Zelda's Diary

**Hello again, wonderful readers! Ready for some more Zelda? *screams of approval in distance***

 **I like your spirit. Let's get on with it! Today we go to the world of A Link To The Past, where our beloved princess is stuck in Agahnim's dungeon. Read on!**

 _Dearest Diary,_

You won't believe what happened today. I dare you to guess.

Fine, I'll tell you – I got kidnapped by the evil wizard Agahnim!

Didn't see that coming, right? Can you believe I was going on about my hair a page before? How shallow.

And now I'm stuck in a stuffy, stinky dungeon _,_ with absolutely no hope of rescue. Nothing. No hope whatsoever.

This is the part where I go: Oh, woe is me! No, I'm just mad. What did I ever do to Agahnim, anyways? What a total jerk, am I right?

Gotta go, I think someone's coming in here.

...

 _Dearest Diary,_

My condition worsens, if that's even possible.

There's no way to escape, because it's like getting stuck in a giant, impenetrable rock. _Ugh._ Will someone just show up and save me already? Isn't that what they do in the books? Someone get the Hero of Time!

As living spaces go, it's not too bad. A little cramped, a little dull, and very boring. This is my only source of entertainment all day! Won't I starve to death? How long will it be until I can take a shower? Or change into a clean set of clothes?

Sorry, I have to keep reminding myself not to be shallow. Stay positive. Think like a princess!

But princesses don't have sweaty clothes torn from when I was magicked in here, or smeared makeup. Princesses look nice, and they're not trapped in dungeons!

Honestly, I could have never seen this coming. I would have laughed if you would have told me a week before. It's so bizarre.

...

 _Dearest Diary,_

So far, no Hero of Time. Or any Hero in general. Just me, my diary, and a dungeon. Yippee.

Maybe there's something I can learn from this experience. Cheer up, it could always be worse!

How? The dungeon would be too small and I'd be stuck forever? I'll never get out of here for all of eternity?

At least I'm not dead, right?

Oh, who am I kidding? This is _the worst thing that could possibly happen to me!_

Okay, get a hold of yourself. It's not _that_ bad. You could be...

Fine, Diary. I give up. Just let me out of here! There's no way I can contact anyone, either, not that I'd want to. My hair is an absolute wreck and I'm sure my mascara is everywhere. The first thing I'll do when I get back to my real life is take a bath.

If I get back, that is...

...

 _Dearest Diary,_

I'm going to die here, aren't I?

I've given up on rescue. Who could come for some random girl, anyone? A handsome rescuer, maybe, but who else? Do I even know anyone who would want to come for me?

I miss Hyrule. It's so nice at this time of year, and I miss the sunlight. This dungeon is pitch-dark at night, but at times in the day there's enough light for me to write by. I miss flowers and pretty dresses and having lunch with friends. I wonder if they know where I am. Do they think I've gone on a trip or something? Gone from their lives forever?

A trip to the dungeon of an evil wizard, one I never could have imagined. And a one-way trip at that.

I just want to go _home!_

 _..._

 _Dearest Diary,_

I only wish there was something I could do about my situation. Maybe I could find a crack in the wall and beat my fists against it for days on end and see if that does anything, but the walls are probably a few feet thick. There's no getting through.

Let's face it – I'm a goner.

How could I not have seen this sooner? I could have at least said my goodbyes to my family, my friends. I just want to see them! Why can't I get out of here?

I never realized how _angry_ I am at that old wizard. What does he think he's doing, meddling with my life like this? I bet you he wouldn't like if I stuck _him_ in prison, huh? I bet he would be pretty miserable, too!

I've read all of my old diary entries a million zillion times over and over, the only key I have back to my old life. The life I'll never have again.

Really dramatic, I know. But there's always time for drama, especially in the last act of my tragic life.

...

 _Dearest Diary,_

I tried to get myself in order today. Finger-combed my hair, wiped off all the makeup. I probably look like an escaped circus clown now. Did I mention how greasy my hair is now? It's abysmal! It's like someone took oil and dragged it all over my scalp. _Eww!_

Anyways, there's not much I can do about my clothes, since they're so ratty and I can't wash them, so I just have to sit here looking like a peasant.

I wonder why Agahnim hasn't come back yet. Doesn't he want to interrogate me or something? Or am I bait?

If I'm bait, does that mean someone is coming for me?

...

 _Dearest Diary,_

Another dreary day. Like all of the other dreary days here. Still stuck, no improvement whatsoever. Absolutely nothing has changed. Literally nothing.

I can see out of the door to the cell I'm stuck in, which is like a slap in the face. Freedom, so close yet so far away, and I'm stuck so close to it I can taste it.

The torches are making loud flickering noises, which bugs me when I'm trying to sleep, so I've resorted to writing during this time.

Wait. Those aren't noises from the torches. Those are from _outside._

Could it possibly be?

Has my savior come?

 **All right, an update! Did you enjoy?**

 **Speaking of updates, I wrote the next update for this story (Link's Awakening) and I think it's pretty great... But who knows when it will get posted? If you insist I could make an exception and post it today, also... *winks***

 **If you're enjoying so far shoot me a review and tell me which one you like the best! There's not very many options, but I'd love to hear your preferences!**

 **That's all for today, dear reader. Until next time!**


	4. Link's Awakening: An (Un)Lucky Shipwreck

**Why am I posting today, only days after the previous post? (Actually, I don't know. I'm really bored, so here. Fanfiction!)**

 **You're welcome, no need to thank me... (Just kidding)**

 **Today we put the spotlight on Link's Awakening... Enjoy!**

Honestly, Link didn't expect to wake up after the shipwreck. But he certainly didn't expect to open his eyes and see the face of a girl staring down at him.

"Augh!" Giving a very un-heroic scream, Link lurched away from the girl, smacking into the headboard. The girl shied back, looking as shocked as he did.

"I didn't mean to startle you!" She apologized, but Link scooted as far away as possible from her, eyes wide. "Please, calm down!"

"Calm down?" Link exclaimed, reaching back for his sword. "Calm down? Who are you? Where am I? And where's my shield?" The familiar weight from his back was gone, and, as he realized when he groped for thin air, his sword was gone too.

"My father has it." The girl explained, then leaned forward, closer to Link. Her eyelashes fluttered as she peeked up at him. "I think it's very heroic that you carry around a shield."

Link pressed his back into the wall, still trying to distance himself from the strange girl. "Um... Er..."

"And so well-spoken too..." She gushed, smiling a dimpled smile. Link tried to smile back, but it came out as a worried sneer.

"I'm glad you think I'm all that, but I need to get going. My boat capsized – my boat capsized! Where am I?" He repeated, breathing hard. The sound of the lighting echoed in his ears and he winced. The girl recoiled, eyes darting to the door.

"You're on Koholint Island. I'm Marin, by the way. I was just walking down the beach when I saw you lying in the sand. I assumed you must have capsized." Her voice trailed off as she examined Link's face again through her lashes. "Of course, you're allowed to capsize on this island any day."

"Thanks for the consideration, but I really need to find my shield and sword." Link edged towards the side of the bed, but Marin placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Oh, don't go now!" She exclaimed, then giggled in a forced manner. "Aren't you going to give me a reward for me rescuing you?"

Link narrowed his eyes at the island girl. "I think I lost my wallet in the shipwreck."

"Not with money, silly!" Marin rolled her eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Before Link could speak again Marin closed her eyes and pursed her lips. If she hadn't made her intentions clear before she pointed dramatically to her face.

No way was Link kissing this girl, and thankfully the door to the house burst open before he had to make a decision about it. Marin dropped her flirtatious facade in an instant and wheeled around to face new arrival.

"Father!" She said, and Link tugged the covers up to his chest reflexively.

"Marin, there's my girl!" Came a booming voice, and a large jovial-looking man with a large red nose walked through the door, holding Link's shield over his arm. "I see you have a guest."

"This is Link, dad. Isn't he a dream – I mean, isn't it just great that I rescued him from his shipwreck?"

Link raised a hand. "Hi."

Tarin nodded back. "Link, eh? Well, son, it appears I came across your shield. Washed up on the beach like you did, I s'ppose. I expect you'll want it back."

Link nodded and made to stand, but Marin darted to his side and placed her hand on his knee, stopping him again from getting up. "Oh, but father, Link is still injured from the shipwreck. Can't he stay here a little longer?" She flashed Link an adoring glance and he shifted over further from her side. Marin seemed like the kind of girl who would clobber him over the head with a hammer if that's what it took for him to stay.

"Now, Marin!" Tarin rumbled, "Link seems like an able-bodied young man. I'm sure he's perfectly fine. And some soldier by the looks of this shield! It's seen better days, I can tell you that?"

Link thought about that for a second – being stuck in the house of a psycho island girl certainly ranked in the 'Worse Days' department. Not that he would admit that to Tarin, of course. Once more he tried to stand, but Marin practically shoved him back down.

"Dad, don't strain Link like that! I'm sure he'd _love_ to stay for a while!" Helplessly Link turned to Tarin and shook his head in a frantic _no_ gesture.

"Marin, let the boy up." Her father ordered, and Marin reluctantly stepped aside, brushing her fingers over Link's shoulder. He recoiled away from her touch and stood, then took the shield back from Tarin. The familiar item was a comfort, especially on a completely alien island.

Quick as a flash Marin was at his side and clutched her hand in his. "Link shouldn't be adventuring now, dad! He's still recovering!" A devilish glint appeared in her eyes and Link had half the mind to bash his shield into her head before she did something violent.

"Listen, I appreciate all of your help, but I really should go and get my sword..." He tried to shake off Marin's grip, but she dug her nails into his skin.

"Don't go now, Link! We're only just getting to know each other!" She complained, although Link didn't see the problem with that. The closest he wanted to get with this girl was the 'Polite Acquaintance' area.

"Marin, let him go." Tarin said firmly, and Marin's grip loosened. As Link walked to the door he could almost feel her glare boring into his back.

"Goodbye, Link! I'll never forget you!" She waved, and Link thought he saw her wipe a tear from her cheek. He had never been so glad to shut a door behind him in his life. Surely whatever monsters this island held couldn't be more intimidating than Marin – and hopefully less clingy, too.

 **What do you think? Kind of reminds me of the scene between Marty and young Lorraine in Back to the Future :)**

 **Speaking of what did you think, why don't you drop in a review and tell me what you think so far? Be sure to add your favorite story of the set, too! Seeing as there's only four of them it won't be much of a challenge.**

 **Next up is OoT... So many opportunities! If you're going to review tell me your favorite part of OoT, it might just get the spotlight. (I'm serious about this!)**

 **That's all for now, folks. Until next time!**


	5. Ocarina of Time: So Close, Yet So Far

**Come one, come all to the next installment in the Timeline Chronology! Specifically, Ocarina of Time.**

 **Since this game is jam-packed with hilarious experiences it was hard to pick a certain event, but if you've played the game before you'll recognize this scene. Trust me...**

 **So, are you ready? Read on!**

New ocarina in hand, Link darted out of the tree trunk and began to run for the freedom of Hyrule Field. At last he was free from the likes of Mido and Saria, resident OCD freak and sociopath, respectively. The Great Deku tree was no better – a giant, sentient _tree?_ There were about a million things wrong with the Kokiri Forest already, and Link was glad to finally be rid of them. The only reminder of the people he was leaving behind was Saria's ocarina, which he wiped on his tunic carefully. Girl cooties were a dangerous and infectious disease, Link was no fool. No way he was risking it.

As he started for Hyrule Field he could smell the sweet scent of liberty and all the wonderful things the world had to offer him. Adventure! Monsters! Money! All the things a kid of his age could desire were finally his. All he had to do was step into Hyrule Field and his quest would begin...

A hooting drew his attention to a branch of a tree almost above him, where a massive owl sat perched, so large it was a wonder it didn't break the branch. Link was tempted to throw his newly-acquired, cootie-infested ocarina at the humongous bird, but before he had the chance it began to _talk._

At this point Link wasn't even surprised; he had seen stranger things in the Forest.

"Link! Look up here!" It beckoned, as if Link wasn't staring at it already. This bird was just asking to get pegged with a Deku Nut.

"It appears that the time has finally come for you to start your adventure!" The bird crooned, even though Link could tell it was delaying his adventure already. He started to edge towards the side, but the owl kept its eyes fixed on him. It twisted its head sickeningly to the side and Link flinched.

"You will encounter many hardships ahead..." It droned, and Link crossed his arms. Just who did this owl think he was, anyways? Why could it talk? As annoying as his new fairy companion was, or rather, his new alarm clock, Navi still beat out the creepy owl any day.

"That is your fate. Don't get discouraged, even in the toughest of times!" Link stifled a yawn and stared at the owl with bored eyes.

"Go straight this way and you will see Hyrule Castle."

 _No, really?_ Link weighed the ocarina in his hand. _Force times trajectory angle..._

"You will meet a princess there..."

Link's interest was only piqued for a second, before he realized that the princess probably had cooties too. If she was anything like Saria he'd end up with two useless ocarinas. Besides, girls were gross. He wanted to kill some more monsters.

"If you are lost and don't know where to go, look at the Map!" The owl urged, and Link could feel his eyelids growing heavy. How much longer would this owl talk? Was this some kind of infomercial for Talking Owls Incorporated?

"On the Map Subscreen..." Link didn't even try to hide the yawn this time. Maybe the owl would take a clue and finish up his presentation.

"You'll see a flashing dot showing you which way you should go next." The only place Link wanted to go was to Hyrule Field, but it this crazy old geezer of an owl lived there he wasn't sure how great the place could really be. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the entrance back into the Kokiri Forest. Sharing a few awkward minutes with Saria was even better than listening to this lecture. The ocarina seemed to be urging him to peg the owl and run for it, and maybe there was some sense to that statement.

"Did you get all that?"

Link raised his slackened head and squinted at the owl dazedly. Was it possible that the torment was over already? How long had he been out, seven years?

"What?" The word slipped out of his mouth before he could think about it and the owl ruffled its feathers, seeming pleased.

"I'll take that as a no, then."

Link's jaw dropped and he fumbled for a reply, but before he could the owl began to speak again, its monotone drilling into Link's skull.

"Link! Look up here!" It called, and Link almost collapsed to the ground in despair. No way was he going through that again. Being stabbed by a monster was less painful than enduring the stupid old owl's conversations.

"It appears that the time has finally come..."

Link's fingers tightened around the ocarina. This was his moment to shine. It was finally time for him to prove to himself that he was a hero, fighting off the injustice of lecturing owls that plagued the fields of Hyrule. It was time for him to take a stand.

Raising his arm, Link aimed for the owl, who was so busy thoroughly explaining the Map Subscreen that he didn't even notice the change in Link's position. With the practiced arm of a hero and accuracy sharpened by the pains of acute boredom, Link swung his arm back, then forward and let the ocarina fly.

With a sharp _smack_ the instrument collided into the owl's skull, causing it to teeter off of the branch and fumble about in the air to stay upright. Collecting his ocarina from the ground, Link sprinted for the entrance to Hyrule Field, ignoring the indignant shrieks and hoots of the owl as it circled in the air behind him, and began his adventure – at long last.

 **I noticed I've been using events that are relatively close to the beginnings of the games, so I'll try to choose some later scenes in the next stories. Next is Marjora's Mask, and requests are very welcome! I have an idea already but I love your feedback.**

 **Speaking of feedback, don't shy away from those reviews! I'd love to hear what you think so far. What games are you looking forward to? Don't forget to add your favorite story in the chronology so far if you review! Thanks a million.**

 **If you're enjoying this, I'd recommend you go check out my other Zelda story, Remnants. It's equally hilarious and I think you'll like it a lot!**

 **I guess that's all for now. Until next time, dear reader!**

 **(Did you get all that?) :)**


	6. Majora's Mask: Tomorrow

**Heyo, everyone. Welcome back!**

 **Today we turn the lens - or the pen? The laptop? The imagination? - on Majora's Mask. There are some characters I'm sure you'll recognize... But you can't recognize them until you read them! So I'll cut the chitchat and let you read.**

 **Read on! (That's your cue.)**

Finally Cremia realizes what I've been telling her all along – that I'm an adult! She may not believe it, but you better hear me, anyone who can fight off some aliens all on her lonesome is an adult for sure. Well, maybe not all on my lonesome, the weird grasshopper elf kid came along. But other than that, it was all me!

I've wanted to have Chateau Romani for _ages,_ not because of the taste or anything, but because people will finally see me for who I've always known I am. I want Cremia to see that I'm not a little kid anymore, and she's catching on at last.

The only thing more I'd need is Romani's Mask, which would complete the whole package. Against all odds, Cremia actually promised to make me one.

Okay, what? Did those aliens abduct my stick-up-the-butt sister and replace her with someone who actually has a soul?

Just kidding. I'm being too rough on Cremia. But _wow,_ a mask and a taste of bona fide Chateau Romani? Someone's lucky star was listening when they wished on it!

Or lucky moon, I guess. Not many stars to see now with that big hulking thing in the way.

"Can you believe it?" I gush, twisting my bow in my hands. "Real Chateau Romani? I'm really an adult now?"

I've asked her a thousand times before, and her tired smile shows it, but it's a smile all the same. Cremia's red hair catches the fading sunlight as she gazes at the scarlet-streaked horizon, blood splattered across the sky.

"Yes, Romani. You're an adult now."

"Not like that grasshopper boy." I wrinkle my nose and smile. "What a kid, right?"

Cremia looks like she's about to say something but catches herself. I see her bite her lip, never drawing her eyes away from the setting sun. "Yep."

I'm a little disappointed with the trite replies, but the prospects of tonight are too good to bog my spirits down. First a strange kid shows up in town, then the aliens come back, and now I finally convince Cremia I'm an adult?

Next thing you know the moon is going to fall.

"What are you going to work on my mask?" I pester Cremia, and she just shakes her head, tongues of fire licking across her hair. I wish my hair was as flowy and nice as Cremia's. Maybe I should have wished for that too.

"Later, Romani. Be patient."

"But it's so _hard!"_ I groan, and Cremia smiles a thin smile again.

"It's part of being an adult, Romani. You'll get used to it."

"Ugh. Can I try Chateau Romani now, Cremia?" I beg, and Cremia's smile fades.

"Later, Romani. Be patient." I can detect her stern tone and shut my mouth quickly, just in case she should change her mind if I'm being too annoying.

Cremia is still gazing away at the sun, but I tilt my head back and gaze at the moon. It's the strangest moon I've ever seen, and the only one, I guess, but it's still odd-looking. You could almost make out the features of a face on it, with bulging eyes and teeth formed by craters and shadows. I would point it out to Cremia, but I still want that mask, so I'll keep quiet.

"Are you worried, Romani?" Cremia suddenly asks, and I turn to her, confused.

"Worried? About what?" I'm about to mention the aliens but decide against it. Don't want to irk her anymore. Even so, Cremia is acting really strange.

"The moon. Do you think it will fall?"

I squint up at the ugly face in the moon and stick out my tongue. "Nah. Why would it fall on us?"

"I don't know." Cremia simply says, her face completely blank. My brows furrow but I stay quiet and watch the hem of her skirt tease in the breeze.

"Romani, come in bed with me tonight." Cremia offers, and I grin.

"Really?" It was a thing we used to do when we were both kids, whispering silly secrets deep into the night. Staying with Cremia was always a comfort to me then, and it will be now.

"Really. I..." She trails off, and I jump up and give her a bear hug.

"Thanks!" I haven't seen Cremia in this good of a mood in _ages._ "Wow, Cremia, thanks a lot!"

"No problem, Romani." She responds, and I see something shining in her eye, but when I look again it's gone.

As we settle into bed that night I pull the covers over my head and giggle, but Cremia is silent as she slips in beside me, hugging me close. I try to wiggle away but she holds me fast. After a while I get comfortable and glance out the window at the moon in the sky. If it's even possible it looks even closer than it did when we were standing outside.

"Goodnight, Cremia!" I whisper, then close my eyes.

"Goodnight, Romani. See you... Tomorrow."

 **In the description I said these would all be humorous, but I guess I violated that statement in Zelda II. Oops...**

 **And yes, I know I just updated a few days ago, but Friday is my usual update day, and I thought why not? So here you go.**

 **Another reminder to add this to your Story Alert list if you want to know when there will be updates, since they just come as I write them. Thanks a million!**

 **Don't forget to drop down and write a review about what you think so far! It means a lot to me and I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

 **Next up is OoS (Oracle of Seasons), and yes, I'm doing Ages as well. Any ideas there? :)**

 **I think that's all for now. Until next time!**


	7. Oracle of Seasons: Recipe for Success

**Welcome back, everyone! First I have some explaining to do.**

 **For those clever few of you who pointed out that Romani usually talks in third person - which, believe it or not, I have played MM before, so I remembered - I had actually written a draft where it was in third person, but it just sounded strange. If you can't picture it just imagine the entire story with 'I' replaced with 'Romani.' It wasn't really working for me, so I changed it. So if you were wondering that's why!**

 **I have another explanation to follow, but first wouldn't you rather read than listen to me ramble? Read on!**

Syrup's Recipe for Success – Or Rather, Magic Potions

Welcome, welcome everyone! Potion extraordinaires, loyal customers, or deathly ill Zora! Here I'll be revealing my secret recipe for the _only_ potion you'll ever need. Introducing Syrup's Magic Potion!

Yes, I'm sure you've heard about it before, the raving critics and such – life is difficult as a wildly popular cooking show host, dear – but if you haven't you're in for a real treat. Is your child dying of illness? Magic Potion! Did you get a papercut reading late one night? Magic Potion! Are you slightly thirsty and there's water available only a few paces away? Magic Potion! All-Purpose-Heavy-Duty, that's what I call it. You'll never need to brew another potion again!

But enough with the chitchat, let's talk ingredients. This delicacy may be a bit of a stretch ingredient-wise for our viewers in Termina or Koholit Island, but fear not! You can substitute the intestines of Dodongo for ground Deku Nuts. Shall we begin?

First you'll need a standard-grade mixing bowl. Here I have my GreatDekuTree medium mixing bowl, which you can buy for only sixty rupees, what a steal! If you don't have this fabulous product feel free to use the hollowed-out skull of a Moblin, which is also just as effective.

You'll need three bottled fairies. I know some of my competitors ship them in from the Fairy Fountains, but I prefer to catch mine wild. They just have such an earthy, fresh flavor that you can't replicate with mass production, if that makes any sense. Listen to me ramble! Let's get back to it.

Make sure the fairies have a healthy pinkish hue. If you happen upon a blue one be sure to let it back out into the wild, because then you've stolen a Kokiri's only companion, and we can't have that, can we? Here my fairies are bottled in Kotake's AirLock bottles, yours for only five hundred rupees a pair! Again, a marvelous deal.

Next you'll need to take some Gasha Seeds. They're fresh when they have an iridescent blue tone to them, and I grow mine right outside in my backyard! Just take your pestle and grind them until fine, then put them in your bowl.

I have here a bottle of fresh spring water, imported, and I think it's best piping hot! If you can't get yours up to an acceptable temperature then you might as well stop listening now, because your recipe is ruined.

Just kidding! Cold spring water works just as well.

Your next ingredient is the previously mentioned Dodongo Intestine, but since I know there are some sensitive viewers out there I've substituted Deku Nuts. Crush these as well and put them in the same bowl as the seeds, then pour in your spring water and stir! Wait until the substance has formed a gelatinous texture, then let sit. It should now be a light shade of lilac. Ah, smell that aroma! You can already feel your life being rejuvinated!

Now crush up the fairies as well – don't mind how they scream, and be sure to pluck the wings off, you'll need those later – and now your potion-to-be should be the same pink color as the fairies. Here is where I like to add a little twist of my own, powdered pumpkin extract with a dash of salt. It gives the potion the most delightful kick, you'll see later. You can find my trademarked pumpkin extract in the spices aisle.

After the fairies have been properly murdered and added to the mix, take the fairy wings and slice them thinly to a ribbon-like thickness. Once you've done that mince thoroughly and place them in the bowl as well, where they will melt into the mixture. Isn't cooking magical?

Now you'll need to take a separate bowl, and there you'll add in a few mushrooms and a tablespoon of stamina potion. I know it may sound strange, but this mix does wonders for the bloodstream. You'll feel twenty years younger! Stir until the mushrooms are coated in the potion, then let sit in the oven for ten minutes. They'll come out crispy and browned. Add them to the medium bowl and they'll dissolve as well. It is called a Magic Potion, after all! Magic happens even in the kitchen, right, folks?

At last, you're ready for the final step! Take a spoon and give the potion a few vigorous mixes, then dump it into your bottle. You have your very own award-winning Magic Potion! The liquid should be a pleasant rose-red color. If your potion happens to be a festering mold color or brilliant, flashing yellow, discard at once, because it's probably poisonous.

There you have it! Chef Syrup has just shown you how to make your own Magic Potions! Feel free to call in with any questions, or if you have happened to grow a third arm or have suddenly turned into a Moblin and can only speak in grunts, feel free to have a word with out PR department.

That's all for now! Enjoy the new you!

 _Chef Syrup is not responsible for any accidents happening in the process of making her products, included, but not limited to, gouging, stabbing, killing, lacerations, burns, amputations, memory loss, death, or any product-related injuries such as limb growth, loss of speech, paralysis, mutation, dizziness, expulsion of intestines, increased hair growth, loss of sight, or other various diseases. If you have a question about her products please call the emergency room, as this is usually the nature of calls to our business. In fact, you might as well admit yourself to the hospital right now, because you've probably gravely injured yourself already. Cheers!_

 **Okay, second explanation. I was asked if the following stories would also be in first person. Obviously this one is, but since TTC is a compilation of sorts I like to use that freedom for different views in different stores. If you're wondering about tense changes, they'll be uniform for the chapters but not the story on the whole, if that makes sense.**

 **Total side note, but I'm about 90% done with a story called The King's Bride (one of the most reviewed Zelda fanfics of all time - GOALS) and I'm really enjoying it! If you haven't read it already I'd totally recommend it. Speaking of recommendations, if you like this you should absolutely check out my other Zelda FF as well!**

 **AND speaking of reviews, why don't you drop me a line - or a word or two - and tell me what you think so far? I really only write these little bits when I'm motivated to do so, and reviews influence that like nothing else. So if you're enjoying why don't you drop by and put in your two cents? Thanks a million.**

 **Next up is Oracle of Ages... Any memories from that? I'm having to do more research for these, so if you have any good moments I can riff off of that would be great. I love to hear from you!**

 **I guess that's all for now, sorry for the monologues. See you in Oracle of Ages!**

 **Until next time!**


	8. Oracle of Ages: The Space-Time Continuum

**I meant to post OoS and OoA on the same day since they were released on the same day, but it just didn't happen. Sorry about that, but we're back now!**

 **If any of you have played OoA you'll know this event happens pretty early in the game - I know, I'm incorrigible - and I'm guessing you'll remember it, minus my twist.**

 **Since a reviewer almost spoiled A King's Bride for me (thankfully I had already reached that part) I'm in the mood for revenge. Be forewarned! *evil laugh***

 **Read on... If you dare.**

Everything was fine until the Maku Tree disappeared.

All he wanted to do was to rescue Naryu – now _that_ was a beautiful dame – and the Maku Tree was the only one who could help him. So he had trekked through a huge tower, dodged workers and dug up holes, finally reaching the enormous tree, and just when she had been telling him information she had _vanished._

Which promptly led Link to go back in time, wander through a long-winded, puzzle-filled, monster-infested dungeon, pushing around blocks all the while, lighting torches and slashing enemies, and all for what, a tree? Never before had Link gone to such lengths for a tree before, that kind of stuff he could leave for the hippies. But this particular tree had the information he needed to rescue Nayru, and maybe score a date with her as well, so he forced himself to say that it was worth it as he gathered keys and lit things on fire.

Link wasn't exactly sure what how the whole go-back-in-time thing would change the future. It had worked with the Maku Tree, or course, but if she had been destroyed in the past, how was she still around when he had come to her? Wouldn't she just never exist in the first place? If he threw a rock and it hit a tree branch would the falling leaf completely tear a hole in the space-time continuum? If he spoke to someone would he drastically change the future? The whole concept was mind-boggling and gave him a headache, so he just decided to go with it. Past or future, Nayru was still smoking hot, so he needed to do everything he could to save her.

Finally he climbed up a short set of stairs and emerged into the light again, a strange and distinctly in the _past_ light, that illuminated a small clearing where a short stumpy-looking Maku Tree swiveled on its roots and shrieked as two ugly pig-like monsters approached her. Link almost gagged from the smell coming from them, and their looks about matched their odor – smashed-in, snoutlike faces, beady little eyes and a tusk-filled smile that probably made their mothers scream and run. The Maku Tree appeared equally distressed, the flower on her head bobbing as she tried in vain to escape the two monsters. Obviously, she was making no progress, seeing as she was a tree and all.

This was where Link intervened. Stepping out of the shadows of the trees, he drew his sword and began to move closer to the monsters, keeping the element of surprise as an advantage.

Until a twig snapped under his boots. Cover blown.

The two monsters snuffled and snorted when they saw Link, their black eyes turning murderous as they prepared their own weapons. Two against one wasn't terrible odds, and the two pig creatures didn't look too bright. It would be an easy fight.

One of them was braver than the other and came forward first, baring its tusks and getting into a fighting stance. Link remained relaxed; he had faced enemies much more threatening than this. He could probably take this one out with one hand tied behind his back. That would be a good story to tell Nayru...

The monster made its first move, stabbing at Link with a short sword, and he dodged the swipe almost lazily. This would be _too_ easy. The Maku Tree was watching him carefully, still fretful and scared, and he flourished his blade impressively. Not like he wanted to make an impression on the tree or anything, but if the Maku Tree ever saw Nayru she could tell her how awesome he was.

Another strike came at Link from the side and he parried it with a flick of his wrist. He was bored of the fight already and plunged the blade through the monster's chest. A squeal filled the clearing as the pig monster reeled about on Link's sword point, clawing at the blade before falling limp. Link yawned and wandered over to the Maku Tree, whose expression had lightened considerably. She grinned at the collapsed form of the pig monster, which was a little creepy, but she was his only ticket to a date with Nayru. All he wanted to do was get back to the future and figure out that item he needed to save the Oracle of Ages.

"Oh, you're so brave!" The Maku Tree gushed, and Link was about to deny her flattery like a gentleman when her cheerful expression crumpled. "Look out!"

Link had completely forgotten about the second monster until its sword plunged into his gut.

It was over in an instant – not his life, because the stab would hurt like hell – but the entire scene began to flash and fade, a strobe light beating against his eyes, red and blue and green over and over again. The deja vu hit almost as hard as the sword had – he had seen this before, with the Maku Tree, but that was because her past had been compromised. Why was the entire world like this?

 _If I die in the past, then I'll never be born, and nothing I do will ever happen. I compromised the space-time continuum!_

Which sounded about accurate, given his luck.

His vision faded to the brilliant colors, everything was disappearing into nothingness as time exploded, forwards and backwards, around him.

The last thought before everything vanished echoed throughout his mind.

 _Way to go, Link. You broke time._

 **Truth be told, I had this idea a long time ago, so it wasn't really that review that changed my opinion. I jest!**

 **What did you think? Again, kind of reminds me of Back to the Future. In the words of Doc Brown, "It's probably fine!"**

 **Unless, of course, it's not, and you break time. Sounds like something I would do.**

 **I reiterate, what did you think? Feel free to type in a review and tell me your opinion so far! That would be awesome, thank you so much! Even if you don't review (you should review) thank you for reading!**

 **Next game is Four Swords. This game holds a special place in my heart from when my brother and I used to play it, and I have an idea for it already, but I'd love to hear what you think. Do you have a favorite memory from FS? Be sure to add it in the review, if you review.**

 **That's all for now! Thanks again and until next time! :)**


	9. Interlude: OC

**_"Stands for "original character." A character created by a fanfic author or roleplayer. Said created character does not belong to the canon_ _cast but is inserted anyway for entertainment." - Definition of OC, Urban Dictionary._**

 **I know I just updated a few days ago, but this gem suddenly appeared and I just had to post it.**

 **Okay, a little backstory. You know those terrible OC fics (not naming names) with the ridiculous Mary-Sue characters and cliche plots that just make you want to gag? Well, I've turned my lens of satire to fanfiction itself. Prepare to read the worst LinkxOC fic of all time.**

 **Now, this is intentional. I aim to parodize the main facets that make these stories so cringe-worthy, I haven't sunk to immeasurable levels of fanfic depravity. Don't worry :)**

 **Obviously this isn't from a game, so I'm calling it an 'Interlude' from the main story. I have no idea how many chapters it will be, but I'd guess no more than four or five. We'll be back to Four Swords in no time.**

 **Meanwhile, tell me what you think! I'm sure you can sympathize with me on those terrible fics we've all come across before... Are you ready?**

 **Read on! (At your own risk, and I'm serious this time. You will either die of stereotype exposure or laughing, hopefully the latter. Not that I want you to die or anything! That's not what I meant... Whatever...)**

 **...**

"Charlemagne! You're going to be late for school!" My mom screeches from downstairs and I groan, rolling out of bed tiredly.

"But Mo-om! I don't want to go to this new school I just moved to very recently!" I complain.

"Look on the bright side, sweetie. You didn't make any friends at your old school, and this one will be no different!"

Mom is so encouraging, I feel better already. Hastily throwing my curly red hair up in a messy bun, the only hairstyle I know for some odd reason, I throw on some glamorous clothes and silently complain to myself about my wardrobe. Catching one last glimpse of my glittering leaf-green eyes in the mirror in sigh. I am one ugly troll.

"Are you ready to go, Charlemagne?" My mom asks. She points to the awaiting school bus and I grunt with dissatisfaction.

"Mo-om, you know as well as I do that I'm going to have to sit next to an attractive and intriguing exchange student! You know how I get around attractive and intriguing exchange students!"

Mom giggles, she knows this very well, since I was practically chained to Francois, the supermodel from France, at my old school. It was worse that his locker was next to mine, and he moved into the house next to mine, and I had to sit behind him in all of my classes... Ugh.

"Maybe if you don't talk about those video games all of the time you might make some friends!" Mom hints, and I gasp in shock, placing my hands over the ears of my Link plushie that rides around on my shoulder every day at school.

"She didn't mean it." I mumble to the plushie, who doesn't respond.

"And talk off that tunic and hat, you look terrible." Mom urges, and I barely have enough time to change into a miniskirt and incredibly revealing top before the school bus rides up with an ear-shattering honk. I dart out of the door and dive into the bus, hoping to find a seat without an exchange student, but the only available spot is next to a wonderfully handsome young man with a fancy school uniform on and a thoughtful expression. I take the seat next to him and he swivels around to face me, beaming.

"Eet eez a pleasure to meet you. My name eez Pierre..."

"No!" I shout, then dig my earbuds out of my bag and shove them into my 3DS. No way am I dealing with exchange students today.

Pierre's voice echoes over the tones of A Link Between Worlds. "I just thought eet would be nice to get to know each other, since we have all of the same classes, and our lockers are next to each other, and we're moving into the house next to yours..."

"Oh, Pierre, darling!" A saccharine voice booms and I seethe. It's no one else but Krissa Popular, the school's diva and lead cheerleader. Her red-painted nails and dimples bore into my soul and her smile burns with suppressed motives. Someone should just run her over with a car already like the vermin she is.

"I'm here to show you around school!" She insists sweetly, and I bare my teeth at her. No way is this lady going to take away my man! Looking back at Pierre, he is kind of cute... I am instantly infatuated. We are now a couple and I must protect our relationship fiercely.

"What's your name?" Krissa asks me, and I want to take her pink glittery iPhone and shove it down her throat. How dare scum like her talk to my betrothed? I don't have time to respond because the bus screeches to a halt in front of school – Normalville HS – and students start pouring off of the bus.

"We're not done yet." I hiss at Krissa, then do the I'm-watching-you gesture. Snatching Pierre's hand, I drag him off of the bus and into school.

Instantly I find my group of certified outcasts. To make sure fellow outcasts can find each other we all wear dark black clothes and pouty expressions. I guess I stand out in my miniskirt. In seconds I weave my way over to them and introduce myself.

"Hi! I'm Charlemagne McDougal Finkerstein. Who are you?"

"Yo dawg, that's a dope-ass name." Says one kid, who has a skateboard under his feet. "Fresh, bro. I have a skateboard."

"I can tell." I point to the skateboard. "And who are you?" I address the girl sitting next to him.

"Three-point one four one five nine... The square of one hundred and forty four is twelve... A squared plus B squared equals C squared..." A girl responds, with nerd glasses about an inch thick and a skirt that goes past her knees.

"That's Pi. She ain't got it all together, you feel me? Talkin' math and stuff. I have a skateboard." The first boy says almost as an afterthought. I can instantly tell we're going to be the best of friends. Never were three people so inseparable.

"Eet was nice to meet you, but I must go back to Krissa..." Pierre edges away and I snatch him back.

"That she-demon? Never!"

"Yo, dawg, never associate with cheerleaders. It's in da code." Skateboard rolls his eyes and throws up a few gang signs.

"Yes, but you are so stereotypical..." Pierre looks uncomfortable. "This eez blatantly wrong..."

"Welcome to high school, Pierre." I sigh melodramatically, fluttering my eyelashes at him. "Stereotypes run rampant."

"Pi times radius squared!" Pi replies energetically, and I'm grateful for her support. We are now sisters.

The first class of the day is English, where by some odd twist of fate Skateboard, Pi, Pierre and I all have together. I take my seat in the far back and try to avoid any other social contact like it's the plague, but that's kind of hard to do when suddenly a random and very attractive guy takes the seat next to me. I forget about Pierre in a second and focus my attention on the unknown Prince Charming sitting to my left and gape at him until drool drips down onto the floor. You know, because that's how you attract guys.

"Hey. I like your Beanie Baby." The guy says in rich, earthen tones, pointing at my Link figurine on my shoulder. _Were more virile words ever said?_ He suddenly pulls out a guitar and plays a few riffs for me, which is very attractive indeed. I guess he was just carrying it around all morning. Even so, the gesture is appreciated.

"X equals negative B plus or minus the square root!" Pi snaps to get my attention, and I whip around to face my new English teacher, a middle-aged man with brown hair and glasses who could easily be the most average man you've ever seen. Every time I blink I forget what his face looks like, he's so normal. I guess this is Normalville HS, but still. He begins to speak and his voice is so unendurably monotonous I promptly fall asleep on my desk.

And I wake up in a different place altogether.

Don't ask me how I got there – I never paid any attention in Science or anything like that – but suddenly the whole scene looks eerily familiar. The bridges, the waterfalls, the stamina fruits...

Wait. Stamina fruits?

I gasp and wail, "Magically transported to Hyrule!" Suddenly my suburban life seems uncannily desirable and I wish for nothing more than to return. "I miss my absence of friends and my unfeeling mother! I want to go hoooooome!" Thus I turn to the only pastime to improve my situation strategically: burst into tears.

How will I escape this nightmare? Will I ever see my newly acquainted and only friends in the entire world? Will I ever find out the name of that mysterious, guitar-wielding boy?

My stereotypical privileged middle-class life, free of problems or tribulations, is officially over.

 **...**

 **I feel like I can sympathize with Charlemagne on a deep and emotional level, you know, man? This stuff is so deep...**

 **(No. No, it really isn't.)**

 **Well, what did you think? I'm halfway nervous to see the responses for this one - let me reaffirm that this is a parody! Also, I'm not trying to slam writers who write LinkxOC, because there are some really good ones out there. But there are also LinkxOC stories that really aren't (again, not naming names) and hey, everyone needs a laugh once and a while.**

 **We'll get into the real Zelda stuff in the next chapter, which I might actually post tonight if I write it up. Who knows? And reviews always speed up that process - if I know you like it I'll try to get the next chapter out ASAP.**

 **(Okay, the last paragraph started with We'll and the one before that with Well. Random yet cool)**

 **It would mean a lot to me if you reviewed, not just to get more of Charlemagne and Pi and Skateboard. If you like these types of stories I can definitely churn out more... This one was hilarious to write.**

 **I guess that's all for now. Until next time!**

 **(Charlemagne will be waiting... dun dun dunnnn)**


	10. Interlude: OC (Part II)

_**"This chap was s***! well the good thing it is a parody so not that bad, but yea I get what you mean I don;t like LinkxOC cuz people only write them to ship themselves with Link. [Zoek een leven] please don't translate that that was just for myself." - Guest reviewer, chapter nine of TTC**_

 ***cranks amp up to 11***

 ***and overdrive***

 ***readies microphone***

 **THIS IS A PARODY!**

 **Let me explain. Everthing that is good about LinkxOC fics, take the opposite and that's what I'm trying to create. Interesting and realistic plot? Negative. Likable heroine? Never. A believable way to transport the OC to Hyrule? As if!**

 **In realistic English, it's supposed to suck. It's supposed to suck so bad that you can't imagine anything worse, which is where the** ** _humor_** **aspect comes in. So if you're looking for a well-structured story, skip to FS, because you won't find it here.**

 **One of the reasons I'm doing two updates in a row is to clear this up. It's SUPPOSED to be bad. You were forewarned, and I'm forewarning you again. So instead of wondering why the OC is such a sucky character, laugh at her antics! That's why her name is freaking Charlemagne, because no good story would have a name like that. See what I mean?**

 **And if there's a general consensus that this absolutely sucks so bad it's not even funny, or that's it's not funny at all, I'll take it off and just skip to FS. Deal?**

 **Glad we cleared that up. Ready for more Charlemagne? Let's do this.**

 **...**

It's not long before my ugly bawling attracts attention and someone walks around the corner to see what all the fuss is about. I raise my head to see no one other than Pipit standing over me, holding out a hand like a magnificent knight in shining armor. Forget Francisco or Pierre or the kid with the guitar. Pipit has my heart.

"Um, are you okay?" He asks, and in a fit of moody teenage aggression typical of people in my situation I stand and begin to scream at him.

"No, I am not okay! How was I a minute ago in Normalville HS English and now I'm suddenly here? Why am I not confused about the nature of my teleportation and am simply venting my anger on the first townsperson I come across? Who are you?" Even though I know perfectly well who my strapping young hero is my two brain cells tell me I have to keep up appearances.

"I'm Pipit, a member of the knight academy!" He announces, and I feel myself drool again. These sudden mood changes hint at bipolarity - if I knew what that word meant! "We at the night academy are here to protect citizens like you!" A loud booming guitar chord sounds in the distance and a few Loftwings fly above us with airplane sounds. To complete the picture of perfection, Pipit draws his sword and strikes a very manly pose. _Is this love?_

"Now, I'm not going to ask any questions about how you came here or anything important like that." Pipit assures me, and I sigh with relief. It would be disastrous to have a realistic situation here. "Instead I'm going to conveniently introduce you to all of the other people you'll need to know like you're a normal person and not some random kid who just appeared out of the blue. Because who on earth would do something as silly as ask questions about your whereabouts?" He laughs and I feel my heart melting. This Pipit, he _gets_ it. Being a brainless heroine is hard enough as it is before you introduce thinking into the mix.

Conveniently, Pipit takes me on a tour of Skyloft, showing me all of the hip and happening places, never even considering turning me in to the authorities or questioning my situation. I think he might be my secret twin or something. He expertly guides me around the town until I know it like the back of my hand – or maybe it's the fact that I replayed Skyward Sword like a million times. Having no friends gives you a lot of free time, okay? Only when I suggest it does he offer to take my back to the knight academy to go meet the other students.

The first person we come across is Groose, who runs up to Pipit and waves his fist threateningly.

"Hey, nerd, give me all of your rupees!" He threatens, and I feel a burst of righteous anger from the depths of justice implanted deep into my soul.

"Leave him alone!" I insist, the poetic-ness of my words stunning Groose for a second. He's exactly like I remember him from the game, freakishly tall with a red pompadour and an ugly mug that rivals my own. Combing his cherished hairstyle, Groose smirks at me.

"Who's your girlfriend, loser?" He asks Pipit, and I latch onto Pipit's arm.

"Oh, Pipit, I'm your girlfrind?" I gush, and Pipit looks uncomfortable. He's so _cute_ when he's uncomfortable!

"Give me the money, nerd!" Groose repeats, and suddenly time seems to slow. Someone starts to play a sad violin and I groan. I've been a stereotypical heroine OC for long enough to know what's coming next – a tragic backstory.

Pipit lowers his head as the lights dim and his eyes sparkle with tears. "It began a long time ago..." He murmurs in a melodious voice that tugs at my heartstrings. "When my father left me and my mother alone we struggled to make ends meet. I've been working so hard to pay for our debts but I don't think we'll make it. Soon they'll evict us from the house and we'll be homeless. Please, let me keep my rupees!"

Groose starts to bawl and immediately empties his own pockets out of charity, and I can tell the sad violins did the trick. Nothing like sad violins and a tragic backstory to make someone cry. Adding to the mood, I step forward.

"My name is Charlemagne, a human from another world who was magically transported here in my sleep for reasons untold. I have no friends, a mother who doesn't love me and no father to speak of. I've been struggling with my own dysfunctional personality for my entire life and have finally come to find solace... Here." I cast Skyloft an admiring glance.

The sad violins stop abruptly and both guys look at me with disgust.

"What? I thought it was pretty sad?" I protest.

"That's, like, even teen heroine ever. Nothing special." Groose yawns, and I promptly punch him in the stomach. Because that's totally a good idea, and I have to protect my dwindling, self-deprecated teen heroine pride. Before Groose and Pipit can even get into the mix someone shouts, ''STOP!"

I whirl around to see someone standing on top of the knight academy with arms akimbo, sunlight streaming from behind him in a way that is certainly not natural. With a double-flip he vaults down to the ground with the most majestic "Hiyah!" that ever hiyah-ed, rolling onto his feet with expert ease. All eyes are drawn to him as he stands, blue eyes flashing with anger, and my ridiculously fickle heart jumps to the flame of his gaze.

 _Now_ this _is love._

"Stop." The boy repeats, and all breath rushes from me like beer from a frat party. How many times have I looked into those eyes? How many times have I placed that figurine on my shoulder?

To add to the dramatic affect, he rips his shirt off and smiles roguishly at me.

"My name is Link." He announces, and a Loftwing caws in the distance. "I am your betrothed."

 **...**

 **And with that stunning declaration, we conclude.**

 ***cranks amp up to eleven***

 **THIS IS A PARODY!**

 **Just getting the message across. One last time should do the trick.**

 **So, if you're going to treat it as anything more that such you're kidding yourself.**

 **And one more declaration: There** ** _are_** **really good LinkxOC fics! There are absolutely great ones! I'm not cursing the entire genre, and I'm not shunning those who write LinkxOC... Also clearing things up.**

 **I've probably already scared you away from reviewing, but if you do, tell me your honest opinion! Even if you think the story is s*** like our wonderful aforementioned guest reviewer. I'll know never to parodize again. I would really appreciate if you would review, though. If you found this 's***' hilarious, tell me! If you didn't, tell me!**

 **I guess that's all for now. Or maybe it isn't, because is absolutely no one likes it I _will_ take it down. If you're enjoying the ridiculous tale of Charlemagne, be sure to put a word in, because your review could change my mind.**

 **Until next time... Or not.**


	11. Interlude: OC (Part III)

**Welcome to the finale of the hit new drama, Interlude! A tale of intrigue, romance, and suspense, Charlemagne's love story will tug those heartstrings and bring you to tears with its deepness.**

 **Just. Kidding. If you haven't realized this already, this is a** ** _parody_** **, so that entire first line was a joke. If you didn't realize that... *sigh***

 **Well, who wants to hear the conclusion to Charlemagne's tale? Read on!**

 **...**

I'm so distracted by the shirtless Hero of Time in front of me that it takes a badly disguised throat-clearing from Pipit to bring me back to my senses.

"Hello!" I yelp. "I am Charlemagne, a traveler from afar! I greet you with glad tidings!" Bowing at the waist, I try to keep a dignified expression on my face. The curse of all teenage heroines, both brain cells in my possession fail when confronted with an attractive male, and it appears my life is fraught with them. Or I'm just brick stupid. It must be the attractive males.

"I dislike you!" Link heralds, and I tilt my head to the side.

"That's interesting. Even though we've only known each other for a brief amount of time you've already drawn conclusions about my character."

Link scowls, like I have done him some personal wrong. "No, you dingus. It's a mandatory figment in our odd relationship that adds drama to our love life!"

"Did someone say love life?" A feminine voice asks, and no one other than Zelda walks out from the doors of the knight academy. I give her my most menacing glare, because _every_ time I find a suitor someone always steals him away. If anyone will complicate Link and I's flawed and strange relationship, it's her. Although we barely have a relationship to speak of beyond this conversation.

"Zelda! My childhood friend and closest companion who I would go to the ends of the earth to rescue!" Link calls to her, and she simpers, making me gag. Who does this girl think she is? It's not like she's Link's childhood friend or his closest companion or anything.

"Who's your friend?" Zelda asks kindly, and I'm reminded of that she-demon Krissa. Both have the same blonde hair and supermodel looks and black, twisted souls.

"This is Charlemagne, a stranger who has suddenly appeared here for no reason." Link replies in a booming voice.

"Oh! Good thing I'm not going to pry and ask any questions about how she came here, even though I'm the Triforce of Wisdom. You kids have fun!" She saunters off and Groose tails along after her, looking slack-jawed and lovesick.

"Well, Charlemagne, I guess we'd better get on with this." Link groans, and I frown.

"Get on with what?"

"I guess you're acquainted with the town already." Link says, exasperated, and I nod. "Good. Next you have the 'how did you know that?' question."

"The what now?" I ask, and Link rolls his eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"No wonder it's so easy for me to hate you. Okay, listen, idiot. We're wandering around town, getting to know each other, and I say something and you reply with an answer you couldn't possibly know. And I go, 'How did you know that?' And you kind of blush and fumble to cover up how you really got here. Does that penetrate that thick skull of yours?"

Link's kindness washes over me and I can almost feel the love blooming between the two of us. Was there ever a better match made? "Got it. What should I say?"

"Here, let me start. Well, Charlemagne, I'm about to go to the bathroom, but it's a shame I can't, because..."

"There's a hand in there that asks for paper!" I pipe up.

" _How did you know that."_ Link deadpans, and I can feel the emotion swelling behind his empty words.

"Oh, um, well, I got teleported to Hyrule from a world where you're just a video game!" I blurt out.

"You're not supposed to _tell_ me!" Link seethes, and I shrug.

"Sorry. I guess I'm a bad liar."

Slowly my relationship evolves with Link and the townspeople. Pipit, Groose and I grow closer and spend most of the day hanging out around Skyloft, doing whatever mundane things our hearts desire. Link and I rarely ever see each other, but in the seconds we do I can tell that our relationship is growing exponentially. The way he tries to avoid me and the disgusted look on his face that appears whenever he talks to me are proof that we were made for each other. All I need to do is to take that first step...

One night as I lie in the conveniently available guest room in the knight academy I hear footsteps outside of the door and I open it to see Link walking down the hallway. Since I'm a stalker and have an over-the-top concern for my fiance's well-being, I follow him out in front of the waterfall and crouch behind some grass, watching him as he stares up at the sky, bathed in the moonlight. It's not actually moonlight but a huge stage light Groose set up a few minutes ago, but it's good enough. All the better to set the stage for the apex of our epic romance.

"Link." I step out from behind the grass and glide slowly towards my love. He glances my way and lets out a low moan.

"Ugh, you again?"

"Always!" I exclaim passionately, and Link glances up at the heavens as if praying for rescue. The tension of romance between the two of us crackles with emotion and I can feel our souls being drawn closer to each other, although Link appears to be backing away.

"Listen, Charlemagne, I've been doing this OC thing for a long time, and it never ends well for you. Why don't you just go back to wherever you came from and forget about me?"

His cruelty is like a slap to the face and tears sparkle in my eyes. "How could you say that to me? How could you be so unkind?" I gasp, and he looks uncomfortable.

"I don't even know where you're from – let me guess, some middle-class family, an outcast with no friends and an unhealthy obsession with your fantastical imagination."

"How did you know?" I reel away in shock.

"Like I said, I've been doing this for a long time. Look, just go back to the ugly semblance of a life you barely have, okay?"

"Never!" I scream, clinging to Link like a lifeline. "I'll never leave you, my true love! I would rather die!"

"Umm... Okay, calm down. I guess we have to get this over with. Charlemagne, you have to kiss me, okay?"

"ABOSLUTELY!" I holler, and he winces. "Wait, why? Not that I'm complaining or anything." I give him a heavily exaggerated wink and click my heels like a leprechaun.

"Because that's the way I can finally get you to leave... I mean, you know, progress the plot." He hastily covers, and the truthfulness of his words stun me. This Link, he's so _real._ I feel like he would never hide anything from me.

Link takes a step away, blowing out a breath, then mutters, "All right, Link. Get your head in the game. You can do this, it's just a kiss." I him shudder, hopefully with anticipation.

I step closer to him, flirtatiously placing a hand on his shoulder like I've seen Zelda do a million times, then lean in closer, closing my eyes...

"Wait!" Someone hollers, and the beam of moonlight is thrown askew as Groose barrels down from the lighting platform and runs over to me, taking my hands in his own. "No, it is I who love you, Charlemagne!"

I'm shocked, shocked for a moment, then lower my eyes and glance up at Groose through my lashes, giggling. "Oh, Groose, you're too kind!"

"Way to take one for the team, buddy." Link whispers, and passion fills Groose's eyes as he stares into mine.

"Oh, Charlemagne. Ever since you stumbled into Hyrule with all the grace of a drunken deer I knew you were the one for me. Spend your lifetime with me in Hyrule, will you?"

"Oh, _Groose!"_ I cry out, and swoon against his chest.

"Stop!" Another voice cries, and Pipit stumbles onto the scene, flushed and breathless. "Charlemagne, wait! Leave that conniving scumbag alone! It is I who truly love you!"

I let go of Groose in an instant and fall into Pipit's arms. "My Pipit! My love!" Groose scowls and gnashes his teeth but does nothing to stop Pipi and I's epic, unfolding romance.

"Charlemagne! I have crossed universes to find you!" Hollers a distinctly Italian voice and I jump back in shock.

" _Francisco?"_ I gasp, and my old schoolmate sprints onto the scene, stirring a bowl of pasta and winking amorously. "You made pasta! I mean, you love me?" Francisco knows the way to a woman's heart – food.

"He eez a liar, Charlemagne! It eez I, Pierre!" My new exchange student/neighbor darts in behind Francisco and beats him over the head with a baguette. Soon a massive food fight emerges between the two of them and I throw my head back towards the sky.

"Don't fight over me!" I cry, and Pierre and Francisco abate immediately.

"Anything for _mi amore,_ Charlemagne!" Francisco hollers.

"I seek only to please you, Charlemagne!" Pierre counters.

"Radical, dude!" The clattering of skateboard wheels echoes throughout the town and Skateboard rolls up, kicking his board up into a flip and landing at my feet. "I have a skateboard."

"WHO ARE ALL OF THESE PEOPLE?" Link yells, and I turn back to him.

"Link, meet Pierre and Francisco, they're exchange students from Austria and Hungary... I mean Kazakhstan and Tobago... I mean... And this is Skateboard, from my school."

"I have a skateboard." Skateboard supplies.

"Get away from my love!" Pipit shoves Pierre, who tries to whack him with his baguette.

"But it is I who love you, Charlemagne!" Francisco wails.

"Well, so do all of these guys." I point to the gathered crowd of my admirers.

"Charlemagne! I don't care that you have the face of a pig or your repulsive habits or your scoliosis. I adore you!" Groose cries out.

"You must choose!" Link booms in his announcer voice.

I gasp. "How could I have never seen this coming? The perpetual choice that plagues my other teen fiction heroines!" _The Choice,_ the decision that will live in infamy. But how to choose?

Making up my walnut-sized mind, I turn to Link and point at him. "Link, I choose you!" I cry out, and he lets out a loud groan.

"Okay, okay, anything to get you out of here." He sighs, then brushes his lips across mine, then reels away, gagging and spitting like he's tasted something repulsive. I have no idea why.

As I turn back to my admirers, I watch them slowly make amends. Groose and Pipit shake hands, all enmity forgotten, Skateboard does a few ollies in celebration, and Pierre and Francisco look into each other's eyes and find love. As I gaze into Link's eyes I sigh and commit myself to loving him forever...

And then I wake up in English class. It was all a dream –

 _No! The writer rolls away from her desk, running a hand through her long hair. This poisonous, she can't believe that she's writing this. Charlemagne's character is the most despicable thing she's ever written, except for maybe Pi and Skateboard. Oh, who is she kidding. This entire thing is trash!_

 _But it's hilarious trash! Every time she reads it she can't help but laugh at Charlemagne's half-brained antics and Link's obvious disgust for Charlemagne._

 _She's sorry for writing this, but she's also not, because it's freaking hilarious. You're welcome, dear reader. Enjoy the parody._

 **"It's finally over!" You cry out as your put your phone/tablet/laptop down and race around your house.**

 **(Hopefully that's not the case)**

 **Anyways, now we'll get back to the real TTC, but I thought this was a hilarious interlude. Let's see if anyone else agrees, don't forget to add your opinion in the reviews below.**

 **Speaking of reviews, we of team TTC (that's you) are getting close to passing up Remnants with reads and reviews! Let's try to overtake it! Represent Team TTC by reviewing, following or favorite-ing, and if you've enjoyed these stories tell your friends, spread the news! Let's beat Team Remnants!**

 **If you go to my profile be sure to vote for Team TTC! We'll see which story is the most competitive of them all!**

 **Can't wait to see those reviews! And I'm sure you're ready for Four Swords. Until next time, dear reader! Go Team TTC!**


	12. Four Swords: An Interview Gone Wrong

**Welcome back, Team TTC. Or TTC reader, or just reader, whichever you prefer.**

 **It's been a little while (or has it? After the almost back-to-back interlude chapters, I guess it is.) but we're back on track with Four Swords!**

 **Who else is ready for some (canon) action? Today we have the interview notes telling the story of a decidedly-not-so-heroic story from a Hero. Read (or should I say, Red?) on!**

 **...**

 **Interview notes of Falyn Fairfax, a journalist from Wind Waker Weekly, interviewing Green, a victim of Vaati's attack on Hyrule.**

FF: Welcome back, Green. I hope you've recovered somewhat from Zelda's abduction.

 **(Note: The Princess was captured by the Wind Mage earlier before our interview.)**

 **(Blue: Loser had what was coming for her. Ever meet someone so pretentious?)**

 **(Red: Don't be so harsh, you didn't even know her.)**

Green: Yes, we're getting by. _I'm_ getting by. This whole ordeal is kind of complicated.

 **(Blue: Complicated? Are you kidding? Like you just get split into four every day of your life. Piece of cake.)**

FF: Care to elaborate on what happened during that fateful day?

 **(Red: Fateful? It's not _that_ bad. Maybe 'unfortunate' would sound better there.)**

FF: Excuse me, _unfortunate_ day. Green? Can you curb your, um _(a hastily concealed cough)_ pets?

 **(Blue: What did she call us?)**

 **(Vio: Pets, entertaining the idea that we are merely meager playthings...)**

 **(Red: Enough!)**

Green: Zelda was going to show me the Four Sword, sealing the darkness that lurked under Hyrule.

 **(Blue: Lurked. Didja hear that? Lurked. Someone hit this kid over the head with a dictionary.)**

 **(Red: I can't believe you're my parallel self.)**

 **(Note: By drawing the Four Sword Link was split into four parallel selves.** **Which, as my boss translates into business-speech, four parallel and interview-worthy selves. Who apparently have no idea how to properly be interviewed.** **)**

FF: Green, will you continue?

Green: Yes, of course. _(A dark glare to the blue-clothed parallel self, who flashes him the bird – and not quite the one that lands on pompadours.)_

 **(Vio: Continue, that's your cue, Green. Proceed, renew, restore, return to, recapitulate, recommence...)**

FF: Oh my Hylia, we get it.

 **(Note: Never get split into parallel selves. _Ever.)_**

Green: It was so sudden. Zelda was there, and there was a cyclone – it was all a blur, honestly. And when I looked again, she... She was...

 **(Note: Thirty minutes of uncontrollable sobbing, reinforced by Blue insisting that Green is an utter failure.)**

FF: What is your plan of action to rescue Zelda? How will you save your fiancee? **(Note: Not that I read the Hylian Tabloids or anything, but I ship this couple like crazy.)**

Green: Rescue?

 **(Red: We're going to save her! Remember...?)**

 **(Blue: I don't think anything penetrates that thick skull of his.)**

FF: _(Getting fed up with these parallel selves.)_ Indeed. Green, please elaborate.

Green: I'm not sure. Now I have the Four Sword, so I'm prepared to take on Vaati **.** _(A brave expression, slightly detracted from the full effect when he pees his pants.)_

 **(Blue: Look at this Hero! Oh, has Hyrule even been in better hands?)**

 **(Note: This leads to another session of blubbering. I threaten Blue with a shovel, which I am prepared to smash into his face if he delays this interview any longer.)**

FF: How will you proceed with your heroic duties and save the princess? _(Points shovel threateningly at Blue, who began to speak.)_

Green: I'll trace Vaati's steps. I'll follow his trail and gather tools to defeat him. Hyrule will be able to sleep at night knowing that this menace is off of the streets once and for all.

 **(Note: He had to read this part off of a teleprompter. You know how long it takes to train a kid to use a teleprompter? A _long_ time. Company time, I might add. I am so getting fired for this.)**

FF: Do you have hope for Zelda? A message that you would perhaps like to give her? _(I'll leave out the part that even the thought of Vaati makes you wet yourself. These Heroes just keep getting wimpier.)_

Green: I just want to tell her that I am ashamed of what happened, and I will come for you and show Vaati the full extent of my wrath!

 **(Blue: Yeah, you just stood by while she was abducted by an evil mastermind. You know, not like something like that will scar your friendship forever or something.)**

 **(Red: Don't say that!)**

 **(Vio: Give me that shovel.)**

 **(Note: Vio violently jams the shovel into Blue's face. The sight of the blood makes Green faint, while Vio stands by calmly, with Red screaming in the background and trying to wrestle the shovel from Vio's hands. My secretary comes in and screams, there's a blood stain on my carpet and I'm still vacuuming up teeth two weeks later.)**

 **(Note: I have officially quit journalism.)**

 **...**

 **Well, Team TTC, dear reader, fill-in-the-blank-name-you-prefer, what did you think? There's a review section down there for a reason *wink wink* and you should absolutely type in a word or two or five or a paragraph and tell me what you think! No pressure or anything, but it would really make my day and I'd like to know what you enjoy!**

 **Speaking of what you enjoy, if you do review be sure to add in which story or stories you liked the best! I'd like to get an idea of which kind of stories are your favorites.**

 **Some more news... If you didn't know already I have a poll on my profile for Team Remnants vs Team TTC. As of now we are _crushing_ Remnants in views, but we're still lacking in reviews, favorites and follows. Help team TTC pull ahead! *high fives***

 **That might be all for now. Next game is... *drumroll* the Wind Waker! One of my favorites (ADVENTURE!) so let's hope it's awesome. If you do review don't forget to add in a WW moment you enjoyed too, because I need all the inspiration I can get. :)**

 **Until next time, dear reader!**

 **P.S. If you are reading this, this is v.2.0 of this chapter, because apparently I screwed up the characters' personalities. I think it's all good now. :)**

 **P.P.S. Apparently these author's notes are long. The lab boys say that might be detracting from the full experience. That gave me an idea: Make long author's notes! I write the stories around here, I can make author's notes all day.**

 **P.P.P.S. If you got the above reference, have another high five, because you're awesome.**


	13. The Wind Waker: Injustice

**THANK YOU.**

 **That's all I have to say for this author's note. THANK YOU. Read on!**

To put it lightly, Link had been through a lot.

He had swung from the tails of dragons, hidden under barrels from massive pig-monsters, hitched a ride with the most _demonic_ pigeon he had ever met, flown around on leaves, hitched a ride on a bird girl, not to be confused with the aforementioned pigeon, attacked the tongues of shark creatures, won auctions, gotten rich and poor just as quickly (no thanks to those evil rupee-stealing rats) _and_ had to find eight pieces of the Triforce.

And that was only the start of it.

At long last he had worked his way to the top of Ganon's tower, only to find Zelda _sleeping,_ and the Gerudo seemed in the monologue-ing mood.

Great. Just great. At least the other bosses had the good grace to keep quiet when he was killing them.

And _that_ was before Ganon had punched him in the face.

Link chided himself for not seeing it coming, with the angry shout and the pullback for the swing, but it was like getting run over by a truck, and the Master Sword had been thrown to the other side of the tower, right next to Zelda' head. Honestly, Link wondered how much of a difference it would make if the sword had impaled her. Not like the princess had been too useful in the past.

Although, she did ferry him around on her boat for a little while, but he was willing to forget that given the circumstances.

So, in a haze of post-getting-punched-in-the-face pain, Link could only watch as Ganon successfully summoned the Triforce and prepared to make his wish.

 _Just great. First the monologue, then the face-punching. This couldn't get any better._

Then the old man appeared, and Link thought he was losing it. The punch to the face must have done it. What was an old guy doing _here?_ He did have a hand on the Triforce, effectively stopping Ganon from making his wish. _More power to you, old guy,_ Link thought. And, strangely enough, the old guy kind of looked like his boat.

 _I am officially losing it._

The Triforce started to glow, and Link caught the word 'drown,' which usually wasn't a positive connotation, and Ganon started coughing up hairballs, or maybe he was laughing. Link couldn't tell, everything was kind of fuzzy after taking the full force of Ganon's knuckles.

Slowly Link got to his feet, watching Ganon cackling in the middle of the tower, which was steadily flooding with water. _Ah. Drowning._

A girlish voice echoed from his side. "I'm sorry, Link!" Zelda announced, holding the Master Sword like she knew what she was doing with it. She probably didn't even know which side was the sharp one, and _both_ of the sides were sharp. Link narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if she was dumb or just plain stupid.

"I overslept!" She apologized, and Link crossed his arms, ready to get a word in for once.

"Oh, _hell_ no!" He yelled back at her, and she jumped slightly. "Don't you 'I overslept' me!"

"What?" The princess gasped, looking confused.

"Don't play innocent with me." Link pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You might want to sit down, princess, because I have a _lot_ of injustices I'd like to mention to you. Let's begin, shall we?"

"Link, is this really the time?" Zelda asked, eyes darting to where Ganon stood.

"Don't mind me. I want to hear this." Ganon waved his hand in a _go on_ motion.

Link cleared his throat and prepared to begin. So what if Hyrule was flooding? It was time Zelda heard how unfair the job of the Hero was.

"First – you get your Triforce pieces just handed to you. You know how many pieces of the Triforce I had to hunt out, princess? _Eight._ That's right, eight. And you know what you were doing while I was finding those pieces of Triforce, that were, may I add, not just sitting around on necklaces or in some old guy's pocket? They were in dungeons, with monsters and angry things that want to kill you. While you were sitting in a safehouse, doing, oh wait, _nothing._ Offense number one."

"He's got a point, you know." Ganon muttered, and Zelda glared at him.

"What? Just thought I'd comment. This is better than Hylian Housewives." The Gerudo shrugged.

"My sister has been kidnapped, my grandmother almost died, I had to leave my cherished home behind to defeat this guy –" He pointed at Ganon, who waved – "Who just punched me in the face!"

"Sorry about that. I said I wouldn't kill you!" Ganon called back.

"Um, well..." Zelda began awkwardly, but Link was in no way near done. Snatching the Master Sword from her hands, he started to wave it around for dramatic effect.

"I have crossed oceans, died like ten times, and risked my life countless times so you can _oversleep._ So don't even think you can justify your actions!"

Ganon started to clap, which was a nice sentiment, and Link brandished the Master Sword at him to show Zelda the proper way to react to such a moving tale, when the blade slipped out of his hand. After all, the entire ocean was pouring down on the tower, things were bound to get a little slippery. Only problem was, the blade shot straight into Ganon's chest. The Gerudo stumbled back for a few steps, eyes wide with surprise, then hardened as he was promptly turned to stone.

 _He must have punched me hard. I really_ am _losing it._

Then the old man died, Link became a pirate, and everything went downhill.

 **Can I just say it again - THANK YOU! Thank you for every read, every review, every favorite or follow. You're the** ** _best!_**

 **Until next time!**

 **(P.S. If you read the earliest version of the last chapter the characterization was messed up, but it's fixed now. Go check it out again, if you deign it. If you've read the manga it will make a lot more sense to you now.)**


	14. Four Swords Adventures: All's Fair

**Another day, another TTC chapter... Welcome back!**

 **This time we're looking at Four Swords Adventures, which I have fond memories of playing with my brother. I was _always_ Red, and one time I won the hero rankings. Once. One glorious moment.**

 **Anyways, where were we? This story is set in an AU-ish 4SA... Enjoy!**

"Corporal Green, what is your status?" Sarge barked over the radio, and Green ducked behind a boulder as shrapnel tore into the stone. Dirt exploded into the air with a deafening thrum that made Green's teeth chatter against each other. The shouts of soldiers and clatter of gunfire formed an eerie cacophony that pressed against his ears, and the Sarge's words were barely audible above the roar.

"Privates Red, Blue and Vio are still fighting, sir!" Green bellowed back over the din.

"It sounds like it's hot in there. What about Private…"

"Gone, sir. It's just us four." Green replied bitterly, then stood and leveled his rifle against the top of the boulder, searching the dusty smoke for movement. A short burst of gunfire screamed his way and he dropped to the dirt as bullets ricocheted off of the rock.

"We need reinforcements, sir!" Green yelled into the radio, but a burst of static alerted him that either the Sarge wasn't in the mood to talk or the device had broken. Swearing, he kicked the radio aside and rolled to the side in time to see Private Vio dragging something to the side of the battlefield.

A body.

No, not a body, Green repeated to himself as he sprinted to Vio's side, keeping his head low to avoid hostile gunfire. The grass kicked up by his feet but he ignored it, diving down next to Vio, whose head jerked up when he saw Green approaching. The Private's eyes were stormy and his expression was grim as he tugged the figure further from the fight. Green looked down into the pained face of Private Blue, wounded but alive.

"What happened, Private?" Green demanded, grabbing one of Blue's arms and dragging him to the side, ignoring his hiss of pain.

"Blue took a slug to the leg, sir. It was too hot in there, I had to get him out." Vio panted. Dirt streaked his face, smeared across his determined expression.

"This was supposed to be peaceful envoy mission. Who's firing on us?" Green insisted, and Private Vio suddenly quieted, eyes dropping to the ground.

"Answer me, Private, and that's an order!" Green barked, and Vio looked into his eyes intensely.

"It's Private Dark, sir."

The words fell from Vio's tongue and stabbed into Green like knives. He stumbled away from Blue and pointed an accusatory finger at Vio, whose expression was as impenetrable as a brick wall.

"This is _not_ the time for jokes, Private. _Who is firing on us?"_ Green echoed, blood rushing to his head. _If it was Dark…_

"The Private isn't lying, sir!" Blue choked out, gasping on the ground. "I saw him with my own eyes, sir! Standing in the middle there, just as you please…" The Private's voice lowered to a groan and he hunched over on the ground.

"He's got a bomb!" A shout echoed from the firefight and Green's veins spiked with panic.

"Take Blue to the bomb shelter!" He yelled at Private Vio, then sprinted for the fight, cloaked in a haze of dust and dirt. Before he could get a step closer, though, a hand grabbed the back of his uniform and dragged him back. Vio's grip was firm as he pulled him away and shoved him towards the hastily built bomb shelter.

"Go! You're our commanding officer - if anyone should make it, it's you. Blue and I aren't going anywhere. _Go!"_ The desperation in his voice hurt more than a bullet wound, but Green knew he was right. A clock was ticking in his head, a clock when the bomb would go off. Blue and Vio wouldn't make it.

Cursing his luck, Green turned and dove into the bomb shelter just as the bomb shook the earth to its foundation. The packed dirt around his head trembled violently and a shower of earth dusted Green's shoulders. He knew with certainty Blue and Vio couldn't have survived the blast. And if Private Red was still in the fight, he surely was gone, too.

 _How could Dark do this?_ The last time Green had seen his soldier before he went AWOL was weeks ago. Before he had deserted. Before he was branded as a coward. In the war against Vaati, cowardice was treated as a capital offense. The other soldiers had denied they had even known their friend, whom they had talked amicably with only days before he fled. Private Dark was erased from existence.

Until today.

Mustering his courage, Green pulled himself from the bomb shelter to see a wasteland before him. Huge chunks of earth and rock were thrown across the battlefield, scarred and blackened by the blast. Green's eyes instantly darted to the spot where Blue and Vio had stood, and gasped when he saw two figures lying ten feet away, collapsed and still against the scarred earth.

Blue was turning Red when Green approached him, his uniform stained a deep crimson, eyes wide in horror and shock. As Green watched the fight slowly drained from him and his rasping breaths stilled.

Green's vision washed with red and he wheeled on the place where the bomb had exploded, unslinging his rifle from his back and holding it before him, preparing to send a bullet into the first thing that moved. Into whoever killed Blue.

But he couldn't have foreseen when Dark stepped up from the ashes, smiling.

His face was different than how Green remembered him, thin and long, only barely holding onto the essence that made him recognizable as Dark. The sly, sarcastic smile was replaced with a sadistic one, and the eyes that were once proud and bright had darkened to pits. Green sucked in a breath when he saw him, still in a tattered army uniform, smiling that gaping smile, despite the fact that he had wiped out almost all of Green's squad.

"Dark." The word escaped Green's lips before he could stop it, and Dark tilted his head to the side, measuring his words.

"That's what they called me once. _Dark._ " He said the last word with relish, as if trying it out for the first time.

"What do they call you now?" Green's grip tightened on his rifle, but he couldn't bring himself to point it at Dark. At Private Dark, his comrade, his friend.

"I am no one now. I am whatever Vaati commands me to be." Dark replied simply, and Green released a barking laugh.

"You work for _Vaati_ now?" He laughed incredulously, although Dark's face was serious and impassive. "I don't believe it. Dark, what happened to you?" Green took a step forward and Dark's hand twitched towards his gun, but he too seemed unwilling to draw.

"I was lost and Lord Vaati showed me the way." Swaying slightly on his feet, Dark smiled again, a wide smile that chilled Green to the bone. "He can show you the way, too. You were always the most courageous out of all of us. My Lord could use that. Join me, Green." And he held out his hands, like they were old friends again, like nothing had changed.

"What if I don't?" Green bristled, and Dark shrugged fluidly. Faster than he could blink the pistol was in his hand, pointing to the side. Green's eyes darted to the target and let out a strangled cry when he saw the person kneeling, staring into the barrel of the pistol.

 _Red._

"I'll kill your friend." Dark cocked the pistol and Green was frozen, boots rooted to the dirt, unmoving. "It's your choice, you know. Join me, and I'll let your friends live. If you don't," Dark clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Say goodbye to Private Red."

Dark's eyes were trained on Red, on his target. Carefully Green raised his rifle and pointed it at Dark's head.

"Lower the weapon, Private Dark, or I'll be forced to shoot you."

Dark hissed like the use of his old name burned him. "There is no Dark anymore, _Corporal Green."_ He spoke the last two words like they were an insult. "The man you knew is dead, and now I live. Join me."

"Go to hell." Green whispered, then leveled the rifle at the head of Private Dark, at the head of his friend.

And he pulled the trigger.

 **(You're probably like: I recognize the author has made an author's note, but given that it's a long-ass author's note, I've elected to ignore it.)**

 **If you remember the all-caps THANK YOU thing from last chapter, I'll reiterate - thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well (because for some reason I really like this chapter!) If you'd like you can vote for Team TTC on my profile. So far Remnants is winning with a whopping one vote. I know, right? Staggering.**

 **Thank you again for reading! I don't thank the readers enough. Without you this would amount to nothing :)**

 **Until next time!**


	15. The Minish Cap: Yours Truly

**What are we? (Team TTC!)**

 **What do we do? (Read this fanfiction!) What do we not do? (Read these author's notes!)**

 **What are we going to do now? (Read on!)**

Dude, did you go to the Picori Festival this year? It was totally rad!

So first there was the swordfighting tournament, right? Oh, man! You should have seen the competitors! One of them had biceps about as big around as a tree trunk, no lie. So I'm watching them warm up, totally like _whaaaaat?_ And then this super-hot chick stabbed her sword through this target dummy so hard the blade snapped, it was epic. You should have been there.

Anyways, then there's the real tournament. The first guy'll be like _wham!_ And the next guy will go like _kablam!_ The crowd's oohing and aahing, because it was totally wicked. They were doing backflips and rolling under each other's legs and stabbing and slashing, it was legit. The super-hot chick I told you about was one of the best, she stabbed a dagger up this guy's... Never mind.

When I see the tree-bicep guy is up I'm totally psyched, because he's going to be epic (I saw him rip a log in half with his bare hands!) The challenger is announced, Vaati, and you wouldn't believe it unless you saw it – this squirty little _kid_ walked up, holding his sword just as you please, all ready to fight.

I'm cracking up inside, because he looked so effing ridiculous, what with the purple hair and all... Yeah, you heard me right, purple hair, it almost went down to his waist, and he had this dinky little cap and tunic and whatever, kind of like the stuff Master Smith's kid wears, right? His cape fluttering in the breeze – yeah, a cape, it was kind of cool, I'm thinking it would look pretty good on me, you know? Maybe would come in handy picking up chicks. Like that super-hot chick with the sword, but I wouldn't want to get on her bad side, if you get the idea. She knows exactly where to put that knife.

What was I saying? The kid?

Yeah, so he's all ready to fight, and the bicep guy pulls out this _super_ sick sword that's, like, as tall as he is, and I'm all like _dude, sweet!_ The little purple punk is gonna get creamed!

The bicep dude takes one look at the kid and starts cracking up laughing, and he wasn't the only one, because the little squirt looked kinda ridiculous in that getup, but the kid just stares at him all serious-like and pulls out his sword, which was even slicker than the first one, like, mega-slick. Super-slick. Slick-to-end-all-slick. Slickness? Slick-full? You get the idea, it was epic. The hilt had carved black fire on it, and there was a ruby in there the size of an egg, no lie. That rock alone was probably worth a zillion rupees.

So it's Biceps versus Slick Sword Kid, and they totally go at each other, the kid almost looking _bored –_ I know, right? He even yawned during the battle! Which totally made Biceps pissed, so he goes at him with all he's got, swinging that sword with the force of an almighty battering ram, and the kid just yawns! Don't believe me if you wish, but I'm dead serious, and I think I saw him picking at his nails once. I'm all for hygiene and everything, but when you're under the attack of some guy with biceps the size of effing _trees,_ you'd think you'd be a little more worried, you know? You picking up what I'm putting down?

Biceps is doing everything he can to cream this punk into a purple-tinted pulp, and finally the kid just sighs and freaking _backflips_ behind the guy and cracks the hilt of his sword over the guy's overly thick skull. _Clang!_ Biceps is down for the count, you could even see his eyeballs trembling, it was wicked.

Everyone was kind of staring, because this kid just totally _wrecked_ this huge giant sword-wielding monstrosity of a guy, but the little punk is totally chill, like, _oh yeah, I eat scum like this for breakfast._ Which was pretty legit and also kind of creepy. But mostly legit.

And, if you can believe it, the kid goes on to totally crush everyone else he goes up against. Dude, it was epic! There was this guy who had two swords, was completely covered in full battle armor _and_ was a good three feet taller than the purple punk, but the kid totally demolishes him. Every person he goes up against gets utterly creamed.

See, I'm no airhead, and I get to thinking. This kid, who can't be more than what, twelve? No way can he be winning all of these matches. No way can he be stronger, smarter and faster than the strongest, smartest, and fastest guys in Hyrule, right? Totally improbable, maybe even impossible. Maybe _both._

While I was thinking (after running over a few pick-up lines in my head to ask that super-hot chick out) I realized that it is in fact both impossible _and_ improbable for this kid to be this pro. So here's my brilliant theory. You might want to sit down or something, I'm about to blow your mind with my epic genius.

Ready?

The kid was using _magic._

Genius, right? But it's the only probable _and_ possible solution. That's what I figure, anyways. Learning magic makes you totally legit, dude. This kid was a beast.

No surprise to any of us, the kid wins the tournament, and tosses his hair dramatically, all like, _yeah, I'm awesome._ Then he waltzes over to the bound chest, you know, the one with the sword stuck in it like _The Sword in the Stone?_ I guess it's more like the sword in the chest... Or the wood... Or something.

Ah, yes, the Sword in the Something. It's got a nice ring to it.

I'm running out of room on the paper, so I'll make it brief. The Pro Purple Punk opens the chest, and a bunch of fire and stuff pours out, and I'm like, _dude, epic!_ Except the fire goes around and starts killing people, which totally sucks, and the kid starts talking to the princess, talking about light and stuff, which made me think of a good punch line. Check it out.

 _Hey, girl, are you the golden power of the Picori? Because you light up my world._

Pretty good, huh? Anyways, back to the story.

So the princess gets turned into stone, he totally wrecks this little kid, and then waltzes out of there, with people screaming and stuff, throwing tomatoes and swords in the air, the bicep guy screaming like a little girl, and I thought, what the hell, if this purple punk is going to kill all of us or turn us into stone I might as well ask that super-hot chick out.

Long story short... She really does know where to put a dagger.

Yours truly (and stabbed-ly?),

Erik

 **First off, let me thank everyone who has reviewed so far (and those who will hopefully review in the future!) You guys are the best. If you're a guest reviewer and I _can't_ respond to your reviews, just know THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU so much! *high fives***

 **Author's notes are supposed to be short (I guess...?), and since I highly doubt you want to hear my various musings, I'll make it short and sweet.**

 **It would be great if you reviewed! If you want to vote for Team TTC on my profile. Next game is Twilight Princess, be sure to send in your ideas or favorite scenes!**

 **There, that was short. Relatively. It's good enough for me. Until next time!**


	16. Detective Lincoln and the Twilight Gal

**Another TTC update so soon? I know, right? I'm incredible. (Kidding.)**

 **There actually is a theme for this story - I was inspired by those film noir private-eye movies, so I decided to do my own Twilight Princess twist. This one will be a multi-part story, but should be only one or two more chapters.**

 **Ready? Read on!**

Cigarette smoke mingles with the smoke of my .45 Luger and dances around my dark office that hasn't been cleaned since that dame Ilia came in with a case. Never heard from her again, probably because she ended up in the Ordonia morgue. Dames never know what they're getting into when they call a private eye, and my agency is no exception.

That's me, Detective Lincoln. I've got a short temper and a shorter stack of rupees than I'd appreciate. When business lags in sleepy Ordon you almost wish someone would go against the grain and plug someone up with lead. As for me, I'm more for plugging myself up with shots, and not the killing kind. The local bar has been kind to my type, especially when business is slow. And when it isn't.

The dame stumbles into my office with all the grace of a drunken goat, which I've had to herd many times before, and the first thing that strikes me about her is her face, about as stunning as the flash of a muzzle and just as burning hot. Orange-red hair frames her face and dark eyes stare into mine, but I'm oblivious to her charms. Dames can pack a punch but I pack the heat, with my heart as cold as the barrel of my Luger. She isn't getting anywhere with me by her looks alone.

"Oh, please, you've got to help me!" She pleads, and I lean back in my chair, kicking my feet up on my desk. Papers and half-finished case files scatter, only adding to the mess, but the chick doesn't seem to notice, deep eyes filling with tears. I've seen her type before, trying to get on my soft side and help find her missing pet poodle.

"No can do, gal." I roll my cigarette between my fingers and blow out a short breath of smoke. "Unless you can pay."

One look at the dame tells me all I needed to know about her standing with the good ol' green, with pearls dangling from her slender neck and silk gloves up to her shoulders, and she nods her head fervently. "I can pay. The name's Midna Twili, and I need your help finding a fella."

Wandering over to the cabinet by my desk, I pour a shot into a cracked crystal glass and raise it. "Want a drink?"

She shakes her head, the epitome of expressiveness, then takes a seat on one of the leaning chairs in front of my desk, tossing a few boxes of week-old takeout and random files on the ground. Waiting expectantly while I throw back the liquor, she folds her hands in a very civilized way. _City folk._

"So, what do you want with the bimbo?" I drawl, setting the Luger on my desk just to show I mean business. The dame starts and then collects herself, running a hand protectively over her pearls. She treats those rocks with the same affection I treat my firearm, although I think I know which would be more useful in a fight. Or just more useful in general. The mind of a dame is a mysterious place, I've learned. One second you're on cloud nine and the next she's trying to throw you out of her fifth-story window. _That_ case file must be around here somewhere...

"I need him to help me out with something." The dame replies shiftily, folding her hands again and smoothing her gloves. I sense trouble and narrow my eyes, examining her with renewed interest.

"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself in, doll? I know you've got dough. Is it money? Is he on the lam or somethin'?"

"No, nothing like that." I watch her hedge the question and start to press.

"Come on, gal, give me a name. It's only going to cost you more rubes if you act all shifty-like." I growl, and she smooths her swanky clothes like it's some kind of nervous tic. Dames like this are a time bomb, and I can hear the echo of the clock ticking in the back of my mind.

"What's eating you, doll? Spill or beat it." I point to the door and her eyes dart around the room, as if checking we're alone. I'm about to bust out with the gun-waving and the hollering when she cracks.

"It's my brother!" She sobs, burying her pretty face in her gloved hands. "He's got in with Ganon and he's running with their boys."

"What kind of sap would run with Ganon's gang?" I snap, snatching up my pistol. If this dame has something to do with that gang boss then she's nothing but trouble.

"No, please!" The dame crumples, tears streaking down her face, but not in an altogether unattractive way. "He's just a balled up kid who doesn't know what he's doing. I'm afraid..." She sobs and chokes out her last few words like they're her last, "I'm afraid he's gonna get flatlined!"

"Don't worry, gal. Lincoln's on the case." I assure her, but before I can even get to the good stuff, the case of money, the door to my agency busts open and a few tough guys storm in, with enormous muscles and minuscule brains. Again, I've seen their type.

"You're comin' with me." The first six-pack declares, grabbing the dame's arm in his meaty, hairy fist. I raise my Luger and the second thug points his own semi-auto at my skull. I happen to like my skull very much and lower my heat to the desk.

"Butt me." One of the crooks grumbles, and, since I'm just as copacetic as I'm polite, I offer him a cig.

Then he smashes the butt of his semi-auto into my temple.

"Don't chase us, Dick." The first thug snarls, then drags the dame, kicking and screaming, out of my office. I'm either a very good private eye or a better fall guy. As the not-so-sluggish world of Ordon fades to the comfort of blackness, one thought remains.

 _No one makes a sap out of Detective Lincoln!_

Although, I suppose those thugs just did, but that's a problem for consciousness. Until then – sleep.

 **If some of the language confuses you, I was aiming for the slang of that era. For example, 'balled up' means confused, 'rubes' means money, and 'Dick' means private investigator. No kidding. Pretty useful, right?**

 **Anyways, what did you think? Feel free to drop in a review if you enjoyed. Who do you think is the Twili gal's brother? What's going to happen to Lincoln?**

 **I guess that's all for now. Wait, one more thing. I'd like to give a** ** _huge_** **shoutout to those who have reviewed already: miano53, Sparkling-nexis137, Rockster, hylianofthewoods, ReluctantHero, whitworth5274, and my lovely guest reviewers. Thank you for making my day!**

 **There we go - now we're done. Until next time!**


	17. DL and the TG (Part II)

**I guess I have a confession to make - I actually wrote this chapter the day after I wrote the first one.**

 _ **But why didn't you post it?**_ **What a great question! The main reason was because I don't want to spam you with chapters. But that's not really a big problem, so let's move on.**

 **Ready for another chapter with Detective Lincoln? We left off with Midna being stolen by the mysterious gang members, and with no clues to lead our rugged detective onward. Read on!**

The floor of my office and I have a close relationship, partly from all the time my face spends pressed against it. Although I can't say our relationship is as intimate as the one I have with my Luger, I sure spend a lot of time asleep next to rug.

I've dodged the big sleep another day, but enough questions to drive me goofy bounce around in my head like overenthusiastic jumping beans. The dame, Midna Twili, comes to seek help to get her brother, who has yet to be named, to keep from running with Ganon's gangs.

I stand and grab a cigarette, watching the lighter flicker across the ruin of my office. Those goons must have had at it when I was out, ripping out files from drawers and smashing anything in sight. Frankly, I think the place looks better. Not like it was much worse before.

When cases like this get tough I know one place where I can find solace – Telma's bar. Telma has the finest establishment I've ever come across, besides the fact that she doesn't ask questions, or kick you out if you've been drinking corn all night and you're a little more than tipsy. I've cracked some of my hardest cases at Telma's, and it's been far too long since I've had a bottle in my hands, so I leave my wrecked office behind and leg it to the gin mill.

Keeping my head low under my signature green fedora, the drizzling rain dusting my shoulders, I mull over the facts of the case again. Unfortunately, there aren't many. If that Midna doll had been as informative as she was attractive, I would have cracked this case wide open already. Reaching down, I pat the Luger in my waistband. If Ganon's mixed up in this, I'll want to keep my heater close.

Telma's bar is a welcome sight as I turn the corner and the rain really starts letting down, and I step into the threshold just as the ocean starts to dump from the sky. Telma herself leans against the bar, shining a large martini glass with ferocity. I'm both impressed that she can scrub at the glass without breaking it and curious about what kind of twerp would order a martini. Besides a few tough-guy brunos downing foaming heads of ale the joint is relatively quiet, and I slide onto a barstool as Telma approaches me, beaming.

"Welcome back, Detective Lincoln." She drawls, placing a hand on her hip and sizing me up. "I was wondering when you were going to come around and get smoked. It's been a while since I had to send you home in a cab." She winks conspiratorially and I give her a half-smile.

"I ain't no boozehound and you know it, Telma." I protest, and she gives me another wink.

"So what'll it be, hotshot? Need some strong stuff to go fight those trouble boys?" She takes out a glass and I shake my head wearily.

"Trouble boys is right, sister. What can you tell me about Ganon's gang?" I ask, and Telma raises her eyebrows at me, lips puckering into an 'o'.

"You're in with Ganon's boys, Dick? I'd better get you something extra strong."

"Like I'd ever take anything less. Spill, will ya? I'm on a tight schedule."

I watch as Telma pours, then slides the glass into my waiting hands. After I put down the liquor she begins to speak, voice low and rumbling like the rain dumping down onto the streets outside.

"I've heard they got a new boy running with them. I don't like that mob." Telma shudders, then takes my glass to dip the bill again. "Those mugs are nothin' but trouble. Then again, none of them gangs are. At least some will frequent my bar, but those Ganon boys..."

"I see what you mean. They're the ones who gave me this goose egg." I point to my temple, where the semi-auto slugged me, and Telma's lips quirk up into a smile.

"I was wondering who gave you that prize. You need to stay out of trouble, Lincoln. One day you're gonna end up popped off and all your trouble will be worth nothing."

I don't respond, just lower my head to my drink and stare into the amber liquid, then down it in one gulp. The drink is bitter but I force it down, wrinkling my nose, when Telma suddenly laughs, her eyes gleaming.

"What?" I complain. "A guy can't drink in peace anymore?"

"There's a doll, isn't there?" The bartender grins knowingly, and I duck my head back, tugging my fedora down to my eyebrows. "Don't you try to hide, Lincoln, I've got you figured out. What's her name?"

"Midna Twili, and her brother's running with Ganon's gang. She wanted me to solve her case, okay? Get her brother out of trouble."

"So her sibling's in the Dutch." Telma muses, running her finger around the lip of my now-empty glass, which is both unsanitary and unwelcome. I still want to drink out of that thing. "What are you going to do about it, ace?"

I huff and cross my arms, looking away from the bartender and observing the bar, trying to act nonchalant. When I glance back the goons at the other table have risen and are now starting to get up to leave. As one of them raises himself from the table his shirt reaches up and I see the gleam of steel against his waistband. _Guess someone else decided to pack the heat as well._

Slowly I turn on my stool to see the men wandering over towards me, keeping their eyes on the ceiling or at their feet, anywhere but on me or the bartender. My hand instinctively jolts to my waist and I feel the cold metal of the Luger against my hip, ready to be fired. One thing you learn as a private eye – when goons approach you all threatening-like, squiring metal is never the wrong answer.

"We're lookin' for a Detective Lincoln." One of the men speaks, and his voice is about as sleazy and slick as his hair, which is packed with about a carton of grease. His partner, stubby and short with a potbelly stained with food and drink, nods sharply and munches on his cigar.

"Well, fellas, you've come to the right place." I open my arms and give them an easy, if forced grin. "I'm all ears."

"Ganon wants to see ya." The first man sneers, then his arm falls to his side, but before he can squeeze off a round I've sent my slug into his brain. There's a shattering sound behind me and I duck as the stumpy loogan rips through a few rounds, smashing the fine and now wasted alcohol on the shelves behind me. Frantically I reach up and fire off a lug into his stocky chest, but not before he sends a bullet screaming past my arm, ripping into the sleeve of the jacket. I wince at the coal-hot pain but keep my ground until the stumpy gangster falls to the ground iced. He's not getting up anytime soon.

I'm about to jump up and check if Telma is unhurt when the door to the bar swings open and another man walks in, notably younger than the first two. My eyes dart to his orange-red hair, a hair that I've seen before on someone... Even through the oncoming haze of the alcohol my mind snaps to the connection like a moth to a flame.

Looks like I've found the Twilight Gal's missing brother.

"You're a tough man to find, Detective Lincoln." The gangster purrs and I bristle, clutching my Luger tightly.

"Give me one reason not to pop you in the skull and be done with it." I hiss, although I know the doll would never forgive me if I did. She certainly wouldn't pay me, which is the deciding factor in my sparing this punk's measly little life.

"Ooh, that looks like it hurts." The kid points to my torn sleeve and winces sympathetically. In response I tighten my grip on my roscoe, already formulating an excuse to tell the dame about how her poor brother ended up with a slug in the leg. _It was an accident, I swear..._

The kid beats me to it, though, and the last though that echoes in my mind is the crack of his fist against my jaw and my body flipping backwards over the bar.

 _Nobody makes a sap out of Detective Lincoln! Unless you sock him in the face, that is._

 ***gasp* What could possibly happen in the next chapter? Tune in later to find out!**

 **Congratulations, Team TTC, we're now tied with Remnants in votes! Competition is neck-and-neck... But we're killing them in reads and reviews. ;)**

 **If you fancy it why don't you drop in a review? Thanks a million. Also, be sure to add a story that _you've_ written for me to read myself if you do, since it's only fair if you're reading my story for me to check out some of your own work. At least, that's my policy!**

 **(Not really a _policy,_ but whatever. You don't _have_ to. This author's note is getting too long, so I guess I'll just conclude it now. Until next time!)**


	18. DL and the TG (Part III)

**At last, the long-awaited (or not) conclusion to DL and the TG! Aren't acronyms the best?**

 **Anyways, enjoy the last chapter of our hardboiled detective and read on!**

I awake tied to a chair, which isn't unusual. In my line of work, what with the gangbusting and the flatlining and all, waking up tied to chairs is almost second nature. In fact, I almost feel at home.

I've only started getting acquainted to my surroundings – sharp white light, a couple of goons with huge guns strapped across their backs, and a dimly lit basement – when a fist appears out of nowhere and makes me see stars. I really need to learn to dodge these things.

"Wakey, wakey. Someone's been a little too nosy, haven't they?" A sneering face reels in my vision, a mug ugly enough to make the toughest bruno cringe away in disgust. The stench of tobacco radiates from the yellow-stained mouth. "Didn't want to lie dormy for this one, did ya?"

"Speaking of nosy, you'd seem to know a lot about the subject." I nod to the goon's bulbous, reddened nose and he turns a blotchy scarlet, eyes taking on a malevolent sheen. Having already gotten a slant at his comrades, I realize my comeback, while excellent, is probably unwelcome here.

"Wrong answer, wise head. Betcha think you're something clever, huh?" Spinning on his heel, the goon faces his chums and opens his gorilla-sized fists. "What do you say we give him the special treatment, eh?"

Pivoting again, he draws a pistol from his belt and points it at my leg. I can see his finger flexing on the trigger, salivating like the monster he is.

"One word and I squirt lead, Dick." He seethes, and I strain against my binds, which, for as inept as this goon and his cronies seem, are tight and expertly tied. Even though I know I might get drilled up with lead, I open my too-big mouth and speak.

"You're not gonna tell an honest fella like me who you're working for, are you, rube?" I jibe, and I watch the goon's enormous nostrils flare. The paw on his heat trembles, but he doesn't fire, which both I and my leg are very thankful for.

"Nix on that." Cocking his head to the side, the goon hocks up a wad on spit and sends it onto the tip of my shoe. _If only I had my Luger..._

"You're going to regret that." I whisper, my voice deliberately low, and a slow smirk spreads across my face. Apparently the lead goon's hearing is as bad as he's grotesque, and he leans his head in real close until the smell of his tobacco breath almost makes me gag. Private eyes don't gag, though, so I resist the urge as he glowers up at me, teeth bared in a forced smile.

"What was that, gumshoe? Or should I say, flan-shoe?" His already ugly map twists and wrinkles when he laughs, and the goons behind him awkwardly join in until the basement is a cacophony of low chuckles.

"It's phlegm, you dumb sap." I hiss, then crack my skull against his, sending him to his knees, eyeballs trembling in their sockets. The other mobsters stand still and watch as their leader sways back and forth like a tipsy dame on the dance floor, then crashes to the ground with a thud.

"Get 'em!" One of the more dim-witted looking one cackles, but then again, they're all dim-witted looking. As blank and moronic as their faces appear to be they're probably stronger than a hooker of whiskey, and I'm preparing myself to meet the big sleep when a door cracks open and a dark figure wanders in. The effect is instantaneous – the goons suddenly stand alert, straightening every inch of their pathetic frames and tidying themselves up, except for the one I incapacitated earlier. He's lying on the ground drooling like an infant. I guess it's fitting, he has about as many brain cells.

"Another gumshoe detective?" The figure calls from the shadows, and one of the goons steps forward and snaps into a salute, almost whacking the large gun he's holding against his broad, sweaty forehead.

"He's a right tough nut to crack, sir! Wouldn't tell us anything about the case, even when we pointed our guns at him an' everything!"

"Did you fools even _ask_ him about the case?" The figure barks, and the goon scratches his chin with the muzzle of his roscoe.

"Um... No, sir. Guess it slipped my mind or somethin' like that. Sorry, boss."

"Imbecile!" The figure barks, then steps into the light. My eyes dart to his pristine, midnight-black suit and bloodred tie, the dark eyes of a criminal mastermind. Standing before this humble abode is no one other than the mob boss Ganon.

At this point, I'm not even surprised.

"I have to commend you, Dick." His oily voice purrs and I bristle, tugging at my bonds. The sooner I can get away from these saps, the better. Mobsters are bad for your health, it's a scientific fact. "I heard my boys were giving you a third, but you know how cronies are." He laughs like we're sharing some private joke. "Foolish half-wits."

"Yeah! What he said!" One of the goons crows, and the others join in. Ganon raises his hand in a shrug, like, _see what I mean?_

"Let me get to the point, gumshoe. I want to hire you."

I was certainly _not_ expecting that. "Find another guy to do your dirty work, blackjack. I ain't meddling in no gang affairs. Besides, I'm on a case. Where's that rube that pasted me in Telma's? I'd like to repay the favor."

The mob boss suddenly raises his eyebrows, feigning that he's remembered something. I think I've nailed this I-know-their-type thing. "Oh, about your case... Midna, Zant, get in here!"

The door creaks open again and two figures saunter in. The first is the dame from my office, decked in duds that leave almost nothing to the imagination. I give her an up-and-down and her mouth quirks up in a smile.

"My eyes are up here, Dick." She coos. "Guess I'm not the bird you thought I was, huh?"

In response I give her the bird myself, and I don't need to do any talking. Her eyes that she was so keen on me ogling before narrow and her smile sours to a sneer that mars her alluring beauty. The man behind her steps into the light as well, and I recognize his orange-red hair from the bar.

"Welcome back, rube. Sorry if I can't show you what real chin music looks like, seeing as... Well, you know." I nod at the second newcomer.

The mobster – Zant – scowls and draws his heat. I tell you, that boy's got plenty of swift. "Can I flatline 'im, sir?"

"Not yet, Zant. I want to see if he agrees with my terms." Withdrawing a small pouch from his breast pocket, Ganon opens the sack and pours out a handful of diamonds into his palm. The stones make some of the goon's eyes bug out of their heads, which only makes them uglier, but I lean back in my chair and shake my head.

"No amount of ice will ever make me turn to your side." I snarl, and Ganon laughs.

"Oh, that's rich! Like you're not on my side already, Dick. Face it. You've seen the way we work. Crime is an ever-moving, every-growing force. Strike out at one part, another twice its size has grown somewhere else. We're an infestation, and you're trying to flatline us with pesticide. Isn't this what you've always wished for? All the money you could dream of, a dame or two on your arms, the adrenaline of fighting the law... Don't you want that?"

"You say adrenaline?" I reply, keeping my calm even with the goon's guns practically staring me in the face.

"Absolutely." Ganon's eyes shine like a fresh-minted penny and I smirk. I know his hand. "Nothing beats it – the rush of the wind, the beating of your heart, your wits against the world."

"You know how to play Russian roulette?" I but in, and Ganon's eyes flash. Carefully he takes out a cig and lights it, the smoke curling above his head and disguising the stench of tobacco drool on the ground. He acts like he's deciding, but I know he's ready to pay.

"Give me your gun, Charlie." He demands, and one of the goons, tosses him a six-shooter. Eyes still fixed on me, he releases every slug expect for one left in the barrel, then holds it out to me. I'm about to protest that I can't play if my hands are still tied, but the bonds fall loose when Midna slides the ropes off of me.

"Thanks, sweetheart." I mutter, and she blushes, backing away.

Taking the gun in my hand, I spin the barrel and hold it to my temple, giving Ganon a small smile. The gang leader's jaw is set and I can sense the anticipation radiating off of him. I can work with a gambler.

"If I live, I'll be your fall guy. If there's a bullet in here..."

Tightening my grip on the handle, I prepare to pull the trigger. Quicker than a greased hare I straighten my arm and pull the trigger, and with a bang a slug buries itself in his forehead. He doesn't even have time to look surprised before he's zotzed.

Again the gang members are frozen, not even thinking to draw their own weapons and gun me down where I stand, staring at the red syrup pooling around their leader's conk. Weaving my way past the stunned goons, I walk through the door and give the slugs a snappy salute.

"See you saps in the cooler." I grin, then disappear into the misty night.

As I settle back into my office, comfortably messy and unkempt and stinking of cigarette smoke, something feels notably different. Maybe, though this whole crazy experience I've changed. Maybe my life will finally turn around, and preferably in my favor.

Then a dame stumbles into my office with all the grace of a drunken deer.

And everything feels exactly the same again.

 **If you enjoyed don't forget to drop in a review and tell me what you thought. And if you want to tell me a previous chapter you enjoyed so I can maybe continue it later.**

 _ **Wait, continue?**_ **You heard me right, reader. You think we're going to stop our chapters at Zelda U? NO! I'm thinking I'll do the non-canon games and continue/update some chapters you, the readers, request. Already the Four Swords stories are on the list and IsweartogodI'llgetheirpersonalitiesrightthistime.**

 **Since author's notes are supposed to be short I'll conclude with that. Don't forget to review and be awesome. In that order. Respectively.**

 **Until next time!**


	19. Phantom Hourglass: Live, Die, Repeat

**I tried to write this chapter like three times and it just wasn't working out, but this is the best one of them all. I hope you enjoy, and I have a little explaining to do.**

 **Our game is Phantom Hourglass, but in my twist the Hourglass doesn't just keep you alive in the Temple of the Ocean King but can warp you back in time itself. Betrayal, treachery, deceit... I'm really excited for this one, so I hope you enjoy! It's loosely based on Edge of Tomorrow.**

 **Read on!**

 **(Oh, and P.S. This story is going to be a lot longer - we stand at 4,224 words now - and a little more intense than usual, so read with a little discretion. Nothing like graphic descriptions of surgeries or anything, just be forewarned.)**

Each time the Hourglass pounds against my chest the captain's words echo in my head.

 _Thud._

"Never warp unless you have to. You'll see your friends die before your eyes and you'll want to go back and save them. Don't. Never let sentimentality get in the way of your mission."

 _Thud._

"Time is delicate, boys, and we're putting in in your massive paws. Don't screw it up."

 _Thud._

"Your mission is to save Captain Linebeck, held in captivity in the former Temple of the Ocean King. Yes, it has been taken by Bellum. Yes, there will be reinforcements. And yes, you will have to fight them."

 _Thud._

"We're not asking you to live, soldier. We're asking you to die. And you'll never know it."

 _Thud._

"Take your Hourglass. Remember the rules. Don't be a dumbass. Good luck, soldier."

The rumbling of the tires grinds into my skull as I sit ramrod-straight in my seat, the tank thundering over the ground at breakneck speeds. The other soldiers sway beside me, faces grim and tight. I see a few eyes flicker to the Hourglass tied around my neck and I set my jaw, eyeing them sternly.

Nyave and Nyeve, the two brothers. Both have red stubble spread across their chin and small, beady eyes fixed on the floor. The two are inseparable and work well as a team, and although Nyave's a terrible coward he's good in a fight. Nyave's knee jiggles against his machine gun, which bounces up and down with his nervous energy, and Nyeve sits beside him, as still as a statue.

Freedle, who can't hit the broad side of a submarine with a pistol but can shoot a sniper rifle like nobody's business. He's humming a jaunty tune to himself, but it's almost lost in the roar of the engine. Freedle might look like a hippie but he's a crack shot, which, if the rumors are true, we'll need him.

Eddo, the crotchety old inventor with an IQ through the roof. Various gears and gadgets dangle from his belt and he's fiddling with another tool so fast his fingers blur. It takes different shapes each time his fingers pause – first a snake, then a lion, then a bird. Next to his crazy inventions his pistol seems almost drab.

Jolene, the tough-as-nails ex-navy soldier with nerves of steel and a thirst for vengeance. Ever since Linebeck cheated her back in the navy she's wanted to get back at him ever since. I'm hoping we can agree to save him for the rescue, but I'll have to keep my eye on her. She's an asset to the team, though, and is probably the best shot out of all of us, except for Freedle.

And then there's me, Link, captain of our squad, bearer of the Hourglass. Chosen by command to lead my soldiers into battle, to manipulate time itself.

"You know the rules, soldiers." I stand and announce as the tank nears our location. "Once we reach the temple I'll establish our warp point. Nyeve, you'll take point, with Eddo and Nyave behind you. Freedle, join me and Jolene in the back." Lowering my voice, I lean in so the tank driver can't hear us.

"I am authorized to kill anyone who tries to manipulate or forcibly take the Hourglass, and I have no qualms with sending a bullet into your skull. Are we clear, soldiers?"

"Crystal." Eddo mutters, fingers flying.

"Excellent." I smile, then sit back in my seat. Jolene's posture tightens next to me and I watch her hand lazily trail to her pistol. Being this close to her old enemy must be driving her insane, and I'll need to keep an eye on her.

 _The Hourglass is more important than your measly life. If someone else in the squad takes it, kill yourself and reset. If you have to kill your squad members, do it. If there's mutiny, we'll be relying on you. If you fail any of the previous tasks, the war against Bellum is over. You are the war against Bellum, soldier._

"You okay?" Freedle asks me from across the aisle, and I realize my features are twisted in a grimace.

"Fine." I respond as the tank slows to a stop. Leaping to my feet, I ready my pistol and gesture for the other soldiers to file out. The stomping of boots echoes in the bay of the tank until we step down into the sunlight and observe the battlefield.

The rotting, moldering temple sits on a lone island, but a hastily constructed bridge crosses the channel to the mainland. The leaning stone facade looks like a strong wind would blow it down like a house of cards. Crumbling mortar and weathered carvings decorate the front, the glory of ages past, but we're not here for glory. We're here to complete a mission.

After a quick march across the bridge I organize the squad along the wall and debrief them again. Meanwhile, Eddo places one of his contraptions against the wall, rendering a 3-D image of the interior so we can familiarize ourselves with the structure.

"We have intel that Linebeck will be in one of the inner chambers. There will be reinforcements from Bellum inside." At the mention of Linebeck's name Jolene visibly bristles, but I ignore her and continue. "While Linebeck is only a captain he holds valuable information Bellum may want to seize. Extracting him is our first priority."

Eddo moves over from the wall, eyebrows knitted on concentration. "Permission to speak, sir?" He grumbles.

"Granted."

"I've rendered the map, but there's something else you may want to know about."

The soldiers shift from foot to foot, exchanging nervous mutters.

"And what would that be, Eddo?" I ask, shooting a glance at the door to the temple, one hand already reaching for my pistol.

"There's gas in there. Not poisonous in small doses, but after extended periods of time it gets in the bloodstream. Fatal." The last word drops from his mouth like a brick and I see Nyave's legs begin to tremble. Forcing a confident smile onto my face, I turn to the inventor.

"How long do we have before then?"

Eddo shrugs, removing his device from the wall. There's a mechanical buzz as it powers down, the only sound besides the lapping of the waves. "Ten minutes? I'd estimate four minutes in and six minutes out. We'll need to move quickly and efficiently." As I expected, his gaze flickers to the Hourglass. _We have all the time in the world, on the contrary._

"Like we always do, soldier. Establishing warp point." Carefully I remove the Hourglass and examine its design. The tech boys got onto the 'Hourglass' joke and have a small figure shaped like one glowing in the center. I press the button and it scans my figure, aligning to my heartbeat, DNA analysis and temperature. Only when press the button again will it reset time, or when I die, and only for me. I feel the device tremble slightly and a ripple of energy passes from the hourglass image around us, over the temple and the soldiers, scanning the location.

"Warp point established." I announce, and as if on cue every soldier tenses, gripping their guns tightly.

"Ready for hell, soldiers?" Nyave simpers, and Freedle gives out a weak chuckle.

And without another word we plunge into the temple.

Thanks to the 3-D technology from Eddo a figure of the floor plan is beamed above us. The inventor shows us a single red blotch on the map.

"This is Linebeck!" He points dramatically, tottering from side to side. "And we are here!" Gesturing to a collection of blobs near the bottom of the map, Eddo then snaps the hologram off. "We will progress in two directions to deactivate the soldier's holding cells. Sir, would you like to establish teams?"

"Yes. Jolene, Freedle, come with me. Nyave, Nyeve, and Eddo, you go right. We'll rendezvous back at Linebeck's cell. Go!" I order, and they scurry off, holding their weapons at the ready.

With a silent gesture I lead my group forward. Freedle presses himself against the wall and then peeks around the corner, rifle pointed ahead of him, and he immediately fires off a shot. A chatter of gunfire follows and I drop, then drag myself forward across the ground and send off a few rounds into Bellum's soldiers, who flail about and crumple to the sand. Jolene swipes a hand across her forehead and flashes me a smile.

"Keep going?"

"Always." I reply grimly, then storm forward after Freedle.

At the end of the corridor is a keypad with unrecognizable symbols scrawled across the keys. Freedle's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the language. Finally he steps back, shoulders hunched with defeat.

"I can't make anything of it." He admits, and Jolene nods her assent.

"Eddo!" I holler down the corridor, and the inventor comes scrambling out of the shadows, huffing and puffing.

"Crack this, will you?" I kneel beside the keypad and Eddo types in a quick sequence.

"I got both of the codes when I broke into the other keypad." He explains, angling his head to the direction he came. Quickly I commit the code to memory – it should become useful if we have to loop again.

"How's our time?" Freedle asks, and I can see the sweat beading on his brow.

"Three-oh-nine." Eddo barks back, already pivoting to regroup at the cage doors. "Hurry!"

I sprint after him and meet up with the rest of the squad in front of large, stainless steel bars. Inside sits a tall figure, bound with ropes. His eyes are as wide as saucers when he sees us and he begins to frantically shout from behind his gag when Eddo approaches. After typing in a short code the bars retract and the inventor steps into the cage, tearing Linebeck's gag off.

"NO!" The captain shrieks, then the world explodes into a searingly bright light.

 **...**

"Ready for hell, soldiers?" Nyave's voice echoes in the near silence and I shake my head rapidly to clear it.

"The cage is triggered with a bomb." I cut him off and everyone starts. "Eddo, your first task is dismantling it. Then go to the right with Nyave and Nyeve. Freedle and Jolene will wait for you there. I'll take the left."

"But you don't know the code!" Eddo shouts, but I've already shoved the door open with my shoulder and entered.

When I round the corner I'm prepared for the soldiers and send two shots into their skulls. As they're reeling about in their death agony I shove past and quickly type in the code on the strange keypad. As soon as I've finished shrill screams thunder from the right side of the temple and I charge over. Turning the corner quickly, I prepare to fire just in time to see Nyeve get shot through the head. The gunshot echoes in my head and I can only watch as Nyeve slides to the ground, limp. Nyave lets out a mad howl and lunges for his brother's attacker, not even drawing his weapon, but his body jerks back as it's riddled with bullet holes. Both crumple to the sand, stained a garish red.

My pistol snaps up and I plaster the brains of the brothers' attacker along the opposite wall. Eddo whirls around the corner and totters over, face draining of color when he sees the soldiers dead at my feet.

"Just put in the code!" I yell at him, and the inventor scrambles over their bodies and his fingers fly across the keypad. Not wanting to waste any time, I grab Eddo's arm and tug him back to the cage.

"Is the bomb disabled?" I ask, but Eddo's eyes are trained back behind us, where Nyave and Nyeve lie.

" _Is the bomb disabled?"_

Eddo recoils at the intensity of my voice, gaze hardening. He nods stiffly and keys open the cage. Again we see the bound Linebeck, but this time he doesn't protest when we drag him out of captivity. Mercifully no blinding white explosion echoes from the cage and we pull the captain towards the door.

"How's our time, Eddo?" I ask, but the inventor just stares back blankly at me. Behind the lenses of his goggles his eyes flash and he draws his pistol, holding it loosely at his side.

"Fine, _sir."_ He spits, and I see his hand twitch. In a flash I have my own gun out and point it between his eyes, and the barrel of his gun stares into my face.

"Don't you do anything stupid now, Eddo." I warn, and the inventor's face contorts in rage, his features twisting into a scowl.

"You never think about anything but yourself!" He screams, voice echoing in the hallway. "Nyave and Nyeve are _dead,_ and you don't give a damn, so long as you finish your mission!"

His voice drips with poison and Freedle steps forward, hands up in surrender. "Eddo, calm down..."

" _Don't you tell me to calm down!"_ Eddo shrieks, waving the pistol at Freedle now, who backs away hastily. "It's that damn Hourglass, that's what it is. Makes you think you're God." The malicious eyes turn hungry as Eddo turns back to me, eyes flickering to the Hourglass around my neck.

"Eddo, I swear I will put a bullet in your Nayru-damned skull if you don't _put your weapon down now!"_ I hiss, and Eddo smirks.

"Not if I don't first."

My hand flies to my neck and I press the button on the Hourglass, feeling time warp around me, the bullet from Eddo's gun that will never come.

 **...**

"Ready for hell, soldiers?" Nyave's voice calls out again. I stumble backward, breathing hard, clutching the Hourglass in my hand. My eyes find Eddo standing by the door, pocketing his device. Jumping forward, I grab the collar of his fatigues and shove him against the wall, ignoring his cry of pain.

"You _traitor."_ I seethe, and his face floods with panic, hands scrabbling at me, trying to free my grip on him.

"Sir!" Freedle shouts, tugging at my arm. "Let Eddo go!"

I whirl and Eddo collapses to the tile, gasping for air. "Freedle, Nyave, Nyeve, take right. Jolene, Eddo and I will take left. If you try to pull anything I will put a bullet in your foot and watch you _choke_ to death in the poison." I growl at Eddo.

Eddo shrinks away, cowering in on himself, and I shove the doors open with all the force I can muster. Freedle and his team waste no time rounding the corner and engaging in a firefight with the soldiers there, and Jolene and I quickly dispose of the ones on the right. Eddo lags behind, not even drawing his weapon. When we reach the keypad he detaches a small wire-cluttered screen from his belt and starts to hook it up to the keys, but before he can I type in the code.

"How did you know that?" He orders, and I know from Jolene's gasp that she's realized the truth.

"We've looped. Eddo..." Drawing her weapon, she points the barrel at Eddo. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, I swear!" The inventor screeches, tugging at his wispy hair. Before he can further defend himself Nyave and Nyeve sprint towards us. Their usually cheerful faces are downcast and I notice blood splattered across their uniforms.

"Freedle's dead." Nyeve mutters, and Nyave lets out a very cowardly whimper.

"Not my problem." I turn and start for the cage. "There's a bomb in the cage and I need Eddo to disable it. Stat." Snapping my fingers, I point to the door of the cage. Eddo's glance at me is both fearful and full of loathing, but he detaches a panel from the wall and begins to weave his fingers into the intricate circuitry.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Nyeve orders from behind me.

"Pardon?"

"You know what I mean." The soldier's mouth is drawn in a frown. "You just said Freedle's death was not your problem. The Link I know would never say that."

I open my mouth to speak and then close it again, collecting my thoughts. "Nyeve, all that matters right now is the mission. And you will address me with the proper respect."

Nyeve lowers his head. "Yes, sir."

"Done." Eddo announces, and the door to the cage slides open. Jolene reaches in and snatches Linebeck, who gives a muffled shout of protest. I place my pistol back in its holster just before Nyave screeches, "Get down!"

The gunshot echoes from the right side of the temple – one of Bellum's soldiers who survived the fight. My head snaps to the side as the bullet connects, and a new loop begins.

 **...**

"Ready for hell, soldiers?"

I run over the facts I know so far. If I push Eddo he'll crack, and he's greedy for the Hourglass. I have to keep an eye on him. Nyave, Nyeve and Freedle don't properly dispose of the soldiers on their side, but I need to monitor Eddo. My thoughts are jumbled and I groan, burying my head in my hands.

"Sir? Everything okay?" Jolene's voice is clipped and refined. _Is she hiding something?_

"Excellent. Okay, Eddo, you and Freedle come with me on the left. Nyave, Nyeve, and Jolene, you go on the right. Eddo, there's a bomb in the cage, and I know you're the only genius here who can disable it."

 _Just a hint of flattery can work wonders._

"Sure can, sir." Eddo smiles and I clap him on the shoulder.

"First things first, we'll need to disable the cage bars with keycards at the end of the corridor. Everyone know where they're going?" Nods all around. "All right. Let's go!"

The soldiers in the left hallway don't have time to draw their weapons before I lay them out on the floor with bullets in their chests. Eddo and Freedle follow me to the keypad, and again Eddo tries to take out his device. Before he can attach it to the keys I've typed in the code. The deja vu strikes me and I remember the bullet colliding with my temple... My breath comes short and I force myself to stay calm. _This will be the last loop. This will be the last one, then I can crush this infernal device under the sole of my boot._

I follow Eddo over to give the code to the team on the right, but freeze when I see the scene before me.

Nyave is crouched over a body in soldier fatigues, tears streaming down his face, and as I watch he gives an agonized wail of pure anguish. The reddish hair strikes me first – Nyeve is dead. Jolene stands beside him, a hand on his shoulder, but offering no comfort otherwise.

"Nyave." I begin, and his head snaps up.

"Bring him back." The hollowness of his voice is jarring. The pain.

"You know I can't do that." I warn, and his lips twist into a sneer.

"Oh, I know you can." His hand on his pistol. My heart leaps and I draw my own weapon, just like with Eddo.

"Don't, Nyave..." I warn, and he snorts derisively.

"He was my _brother!"_ The soldier cries, tears trickling onto his collar. "Use the Hourglass. Bring him back or I'll take it myself!"

Desperation laces his voice, his eyes like broken glass. When I firmly shake my head he roars and shoots at my leg. The bullet strikes and I fall to my knees, pain lighting my entire side on fire, and hands are tearing at my clothes, trying to find the chain of the Hourglass. A hand yanks at the device, before Nyave can snatch it away I press the button and warp.

 **...**

"Ready for hell, soldiers?"

My eyes flash to Nyave, who gives me a simpering smile. Nyave, so easily broken. Freedle, loyal to the end. Eddo, who snaps under pressure. Nyeve, a body on the ground. Jolene, coolly confident.

"We work as a team." I order. "We'll start on the left side. I'm changing the order – Jolene and I have point, and the rest follow behind. I have the codes, but there's a bomb set to explode when the door to Linebeck's cage opens. Eddo will need to disable it. After that we're in the clear, soldiers." I give them a grin, summoning up every ounce of fake bravado I can.

Jolene shoves open the doors and we round the corner on the left, easily disposing of the soldiers there. Once we reach the keypad I type in the code and gesture for the soldiers to follow me to the right, where we sneak around the bend and take care of the soldiers on the right. After hacking into the keypad and stealing the code we come back to Linebeck's cage in the middle, where Eddo takes off the panel and fiddles with the wires like before.

I'm hyperaware of every movement – Nyeve's hand reaching for his gun, when he's really just brushing some sand off of his uniform. Jolene's stormy expression, perhaps calculating how to sabotage us. Freedle's fingers drumming against his gun, each tap like an explosion in the silence.

"Done." Eddo announces, and we drag Linebeck out of his cage. Jolene rips the gag from his mouth and his eyes fill with fear, shrinking away from her.

"Jolene?" His voice cracks and she smiles, eyes narrowing.

"Hi, sweetie. Miss me?" She coos, leaning in almost to kiss him, then pulling her pistol out of her belt and fixing it under Linebeck's chin.

 _No more loops. No more betrayals. We were doing so well..._

"You were going to betray us all along?" Freedle squeaks. Jolene casts him a glance and smiles again, although now it's more of a serpentine sneer.

"Do you know how much pain you caused me, Linebeck?" Her voice is dangerously soft, eyes dark. "I have waited _so long_ for this moment. When I can finally show you all of the pain that I felt. Isn't it wonderful?"

I start to reach for the Hourglass, but Jolene pivots with surprising speed and points her pistol at me.

"Don't even think about looping, _sir._ Move again and I'll shoot through that pretty little pendant. I want Linebeck to feel this. To feel my _agony."_

Nyave whimpers and Nyeve grabs his arm, both of them trembling as Jolene prowls closer to Linebeck.

"Poor little Linebeck. Things have gotten a little over your head, don't you think?"

In one motion I grab the Hourglass and press the button to warp, the last sensation of this loop my body flipping backwards with the force of Jolene's bullet.

 **...**

"Ready for hell, soldiers?"

Drawing my pistol, I aim it at Jolene and fire.

The soldiers' reactions are instantaneous – Nyave and Nyeve cling to each other, Freedle jumps, and Eddo shrieks, "What are you thinking?"

I drop the gun and kick it away from me, hands in the air. _I need to keep Eddo's trust. Everyone's trust._ "She betrays us!" I shout, and slowly everyone calms down. "She wanted to torture Linebeck. She killed me."

"You're not making any sense!" Nyave's knees knock together.

"It was in a past loop!" Freedle explains, slowly bending down to retrieve my pistol. "But did you have to kill her?"

I take a slow breath, taking the gun from Freedle's hand. "It was her or us, Freedle. Now let's get Linebeck back."

Again I repeat the instructions of how we'll storm the temple and it works like clockwork. No one asks how I know the keycodes and Eddo easily disables the bomb. It all seems too perfect, but at the moment I'm willing to work with perfect. Our nerves are still frazzled, but Linebeck is properly extracted without another hitch.

Stepping back into the sunlight, Linebeck in tow, I take the Hourglass off of my neck and observe the pendant. The power of time in my hands.

In this moment I understand the soldiers. Eddo's hungry expression when he saw the Hourglass around my neck. Jolene's sneer, her bullet punching into my chest. The frantic warnings, the crazy regulations. The power that tears us apart over and over and _over_ again.

 _Makes you think you're God._ And I could be.

Then I remember Eddo's crazed ramblings, Freedle dead on the ground. Nyave, driven insane by the death of his brother. Jolene's twisted smile. The darkness in all of our eyes.

I toss the pendant on the ground, watching the hourglass symbol glow faintly, the very power of time itself.

And I crush it under my the sole of my shoe.

 **Like I said, long. I don't know about you, but I thought this one was really cool. Of course, I'm sure I'm biased. :)**

 **What did you think? If you enjoyed be sure to drop in a review! Next game is Spirit Tracks - have any ideas?**

 **And with that we conclude. Until next time!**


	20. Spirit Tracks: Browsing

**Can you believe it? We're on the twentieth chapter of TTC! You know what else is amazing - FIFTY REVIEWS! You guys are my favorite. The best. Always.**

 **Anyways, today's game is Spirit Tracks, where we bring you to the (fictitious) Locomotive Emporium, with a not-so-happy salesman and an irate customer... Read on!**

I humbly welcome you to the Locomotive Emporium, your one-stop shop to all of your train-related needs! Beedle's the name and selling is the game here at the Emporium. Ready to find the train of your dreams?

We'll start with our lower-cost options, if you're on a budget. Let's start with the basics... Where else would we start? The acidics? What's that? You didn't pass high school science, so you think that my jokes are haughtily above your intelligence? I mean, you didn't get it? My humblest apologies. I am your mere servant in this haven of shopping, sir!

Here we have the Spirit Engine. The pricetag says it keeps evil at bay – oh, yes! Fear not evil while you ride this marvelous engine! Although, you didn't hear it from me, but I hear the higher-priced options fend off _more_ evil than these. No, I don't get a portion of the money for any sales I facilitate. Why do you ask? Hahaha! See, this is me laughing at your ridiculousness! Hahaha!

Next is the Wooden Engine. What's that? You're worried about burning fuel in the engine, since it's made of wood? Not to fear, Beedle's here. We put.. Proteins in the wood. That's right, proteins in the wood! Proteins of wood. Wooden proteins. Proteins for the wood. No, I'm not making this up as I go along. Hahaha!

Ah, here's a lovely Steam Train, if you're looking for a more rugged feel. Here on the tag it says it appeals to the strong, silent types. No, I'm not making presumptions about you. I mean no offense, of course, sir! I am your humble servant, remember! So, it's a no to the Steam Train, then...? It even has a Sturdy Passenger Car, fifty percent off for you, sir! No, make that sixty!

The Skull Engine, a noble fixture, don't you think so? Apparently it can also travel underground for all of your smuggling and immigration purposes! What, I didn't say anything. I don't know the practical use for it, of course. Did I accuse you of being anything less than an honest businessman? No, sir. Beedle would never lower his meager pride to such a standard? Of course I'll elect to ignore that comment about my pride you just muttered under your breath. It's in the job, after all.

Why, here's the Stagecoach Train! Just look at those carved rearing steeds! Makes you feel just like a king, doesn't it? Although I guess you'd need a regal fortune to afford it, eh? Am I drawing conclusions about your bank account? Of course not! Again, my pride would never permit me to be so blatantly rude, sir! I am your humble servant... Oh, it gets harder to say each time. I said nothing, sir!

The Dragonhead Engine, if you want to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies! Although I'm quite sure you can do that without a train, sir, for you seem very imposing. _Ah, he liked that. Good one, Beedle._ Of course, I would never assume that you have enemies sir. Although I think you've just made one... What did I say? Oh, just mindlessly chipper comments as always!

The Sweet Train would be a delectable treat for the missus. It would also counteract your salty personality... I didn't say anything about salty, of course not! It is the Sweet Train, after all. Ah, and a delectable Pie Freight Car in the rear, although who's to say it wouldn't be too tempting to eat, am I right? No, of course I'm wrong. Absolutely, abysmally wrong. And the customer is always right, sir. _Always..._

And here's the literal jewel of our collection – the Golden Train! Look at how its fine workmanship glistens in the artificial light! Imagine your affluent self leaning from the window, all the world seeing the dimensions of your wealth, with pockets as deep as your waistband is wide! I would never dare direct a snide comment at you, sir, nor your waistband. _To be fair, it is vast..._ I see you're examining the Golden Freight Car. An interesting fact, if you will – the car can double as a bathtub! It can bear over two tons of freight! With that in mind, perhaps you shouldn't bathe in it, you may exceed the weight limit. I said nothing, sir. That's me, saying nothing. I rarely say a thing, sir. I am your... Humble servant. Phew, that was a workout. Again, saying nothing!

So what will it be, sir? You've seen our inventory and can appreciate our collection, yes? Ah, I see you pulling out the wallet. What item interested you and your noble and exquisite taste?

Rupees? Oh, I'm sorry, but we don't accept that form of currency here. On the other hand, we take Ruto Crowns, Pirate Necklaces, Demon Fossils, Wood Hearts, Mystic Jade, and Bee Larvae. Why don't we accept rupees when we accept Bee Larvae? You'd have to ask the manager on that one, sir. I am but a lowly salesman. What's that you said? Something like _lowly is right?_ Ah, you said nothing. I see...

I couldn't help but observe that you're putting away your wallet. Can I interest you in a car for your train, assuming you own one? Right, never make assumptions. My humblest, most sincere apologies. Not that I'm lying through my teeth or anything... Nothing, nothing. Look here to this marvelous treasure! A Dragon Cannon, hewn from the chest of a magnificent beast itself! Animal cruelty? No, we call it capitalism. And look how nice it looks, a fierce and noble beast indeed!

You're walking away – could I perhaps entertain your fancy with one of our side items? Here we have a handy whistle that is easily attachable to make your train horn audible over a mile radius! Or, perhaps you would ordain to see this here, a gear lubricant for engine maintenance! None of them suit you? I see.

Well, it was a pleasure browsing with you. Come waste my time – I mean, come back – any time!

 **Since it's the twentieth chapter, why don't you shoot me a review and tell me what you think? I'm pretty sure the rest of these stories are going back to humor - I know, no more hardcore action - but really, who knows? :)**

 **I actually wrote two Spirit Tracks stories (a first) but do you think I should post another one?**

 **Since author's notes are supposed to be short I'll conclude this one here. Until next time!**


	21. Spirit Tracks: A Most Noble Predicament

**This is an update... Sort of. If you read Remnants you'll know I addressed the Skyward Sword chapter, which was absolute trash and totally unfit for posting, and I don't want to give you filler chapters, because that's just rude. Anyways, I had _totally_ forgotten about the other Spirit Tracks chapter! Here it is.**

 **Enjoy and read on!**

Dear Sir or Madam,

It is with great sorrow that I am forced to write this letter of complaint for one of your faulty products, specifically, the Golden Train. I'm quite the collector of locomotive memorabilia, which I'm sure you know, seeing as I am a frequent customer of your business, of which I held in high regard before the purchase of your vehicle.

When I first espied the Golden Train engine I thought it was a wonderful marvel and desired to own it, so after pawning off my genuine Bullbo-fur rug and my children as servants I was able to collect enough money to purchase it. Initially I was quite pleased with the product – it's very eye-catching, and now all of my friends think I'm not in a bottomless pit of credit card debt, which, of course, I am. It ran well and without a problem, so I soon was forced to auction my property to pay for the subsequent purchases of the Brawny Cannon, the Royal Passenger Car, and the Golden Freight Car. My wife defined these as 'impulse buys,' so I sold her as well.

The train was magnificent, unlike any of the other locomotives I have in my possession – notice the use of the past tense, _was_ magnificent. I was rather fond of it before the fateful accident.

I happened to be riding home one afternoon, thundering down the tracks will all the speed of well-shaped gold and masterful workmanship, and happened to be lounging in the Freight Car at the time, which, as I'm sure you know, doubles as a splendid bathtub, when the engine gave a horrific whine. Of course, I was dismissive of this first indicator of trouble, because your products have never failed me before, and I assumed, foolishly, that since this was the crowning jewel of your collection that _surely_ it would be the best of them all.

Oh, how wrong I was! The engine continued to whine, and from my seat in the bathtub I was able to see the engine car trembling violently – it was a wonder the entire thing didn't topple from the tracks then and there! Significantly alarmed, I jumped to my feet, in too much of a hurry to even wrap a towel around myself, and hurried to the engine room, where a disastrous sight awaited me.

You see, your salesman insisted that the gold was tempered in dragon fire, which I readily believed, seeing as it seemed quite sound at the time, but when I entered the engine room lo and behold! The area around the furnace was melting! Dripping gold scattered across the floorboards and into the coal, which gave a mighty hiss. I must admit at this point I nearly lost my composure and panicked, but retaining my steady and ever-present wits, I prepared myself to extinguish the fire.

However, just as I ferried a bucketful of water from my luxurious, lounging bathtub to the engine room the golden engine was collapsing in on itself, steam jettisoned from a thousand pipes, and I frantically dove away as a crackling fire spread over the wood floor and raced towards my noble self. With all the courage of my honorable and wealthy ancestors I fled and cowered in the Freight Car, waiting for the explosion.

The engine seemed to burst and all of my well-earned cars went flying! I myself was catapulted into the sky with the force of the blast, every scrap of gold, much like my decency, vanishing from sight. It was a miracle that the bathtub was still intact. Molten gold and flaming wood rained down from the sky like a proverbial damnation from above. At last the bathtub landed and I scurried back to the train tracks and had to flag down a mail train. Only when the conductor pointed it out did I realize I was still... Unclothed.

As far as I – and, having read the details of my predicament, you as well – am concerned, this is a violation of your customer service policy, and, along with minor infringements such as repairs, the explosion of an entire line of your finest train cars should most certainly be available for recompense. If you so recall, I sold everything for this engine, and to have it simply vanish before my eyes in one moment is a blow to both my noble pride and my wallet.

Your customer service was so kind to ask if I was possibly forcing the train beyond its standard speed capacities, which is absolutely preposterous. I, Lord Traxas the Fifteenth, could not possibly ignore the necessities that drive, so to speak, the enterprise of locomotion! The mere idea that I would violate so obvious a rule is unbelievable. I explained this thoroughly to your kind employees on the phone, who were under the delusion that the Golden Train was only meant to run at less than fifty miles per hour, but I had been working late and needed to get home quickly. I insisted that two hundred miles per hour was not as significant a number as they made it seem, and seeing as the odometer melted in the fire I have no concrete way of confirming the train's speed definitively. My sincerest apologies.

Unfortunately, I am unable to present any parts of the train to produce to you to show the extent of the damage, seeing as they were scattered in the accident. I understand that your customer service would like to see an example of the malfunctioning part, but unless you are willing to accompany me and dig through the sand for molten gold, I am unable to help you in this venture.

Having written this I eagerly await your return letter and will wait diligently for your verdict on the matter.

Yours faithfully,

Lord Traxas the Fifteenth

 **Poor Lord Traxas - trainless, wifeless, and now in a pit of debt. Brings a tear to the eye.**

 **Anyways I _am_ working on the Skyward Sword chapter, trying to actually make it presentable, but it needs a good rewrite. I have no idea when it will be out, but hopefully soon? If you enjoyed drop in a review! Thanks a million. (That was a quick topic switch.)**

 **Until next time, then!**

 **(What a short author's note. Aren't you proud of me? *smiles*)**


	22. Skyward Sword: Casting Call

**Heyo, TTC fans, we're back! And we're nearing the end of the canon games... Any other games you're excited for?**

 **In this installment, the much-awaited Skyward Sword chapter, we meet the struggling casting manager and actor Demise, the villain in the upcoming action/adventure movie Skyward Sword, who desperately needs to cast someone as his henchman. Lights, camera, action!**

 **(Translation: Read on!)**

Demise groaned and leaned back in his chair, tugging a hand through his flaming hair. Frustration simmered inside of him and he knocked the stack of applications teetering precariously on his desk to the ground with a swipe of his hand.

In a word, the henchmen auditions had been _abysmal._ He had put the advertisements up in respected establishments, like the Lumpy Pumpkin and other well-known places of businesses, hoping to attract a few well-to-do actors who would be willing to carry out nefarious deeds of evil on the stage with him in the soon-to-be blockbuster hit, _Skyward Sword,_ but the only people to show up had been street trash and riffraff, some so enebriated that it was a wonder they were able to dress themselves in the morning. As a matter of fact, two had come completely undressed. Demise supposed it was supposed to go with the 'intimidation and terror' factor of the aforementioned nefarious deeds, but the movie was only supposed to be PG-13. Nudity wouldn't fly with the younger audiences.

He sifted through some of the remaining applications halfheartedly, tired eyes skimming over the credentials. _Vaati – too childish. Zant – no, his previous job was in interpretive dance. That's about the least intimidating thing since Kikiwis. Death Bug? Wait, how did he add his signature with those pincers?_ The thick sheathes of paper tumbled into the trash can with a dull _thunk._ To get into the role of evil overlord Demise was trying to integrate small acts of wickedness in his daily life, like not recycling. Very evil indeed.

He had just about given up hope when a sharp knock echoed from his door. A spark irritation flared through him – this was his private dressing room, who had the right to come around at this ungodly hour? Knowing that nothing could be worse than the endless hours of reading shoddy applications, he called for the person to enter.

The first thing Demise noticed was the tongue, which had been used to open the doorknob. _Now that's pure evil – repulsive and unsanitary!_ A legging-clad foot entered his room and a melodramatic sigh echoed from the doorway, almost perfectly matching Demise's mood, and then the actor stepped in.

Demise assumed he was an actor, because only someone of such a caliber could hold himself with such poise and finesse. With the grace of a dancer the man entered – or, the person who Demise assumed was a man, because it could really fall either way. Tossing back a curtain of hair and letting out another bellowing sigh, the actor pivoted to the desk with serpentine grace, smirking evilly.

"Who are you?" Demise gasped, and the actor's smirk deepened, then he sucked in a large breath and let out yet another long sigh. This continued for at least ten minutes until he had exhausted his air supply and collapsed to the ground, purple-faced.

"Do you like the sigh part?" The actor asked, then prepared to take in another breath before Demise lurched from the desk to stop him.

"No, no thank you, no more quarter-hour sighs – I mean, yes, very evil." He corrected himself. "What are you doing here?"

"Making my pitch! The name's Ghirahim." The actor bowed, twisting his wrists and hands into a fancy flourish. He picked himself off of the ground with as much dignity as he could muster, which was very little, and swung his cape out from behind him in a notably nefarious way.

"Ghirahim – the name could work. Better than Death Bug, very drab, and Grannie? Not terrifying in the least. Although she did have an impressive display of narcotics. Word of advice for you, my young friend, you know what's in Grannie's soup that gives you energy? You don't want to know." Demise chuckled to himself and Ghirahim followed suit politely.

"I heard you were holding auditions?" The actor preened, examining the room with so much nonchalance he was practically shoving his feigned disinterest down Demise's throat.

"I am." Demise replied tritely, envisioning Ghirahim on stage. "Have you acted before?"

"This would be my debut." Ghirahim prepared for another sigh and Demise jumped forward and clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Yes, yes, very well. We'll have to work on the sighing." He muttered to himself. "Any other talents you have?"

"Many!" Ghirahim tossed his hair again and billowed his cape behind him. "I can summon a sword from thin air –"

"Special effects." Demise interrupted, leaning back in his chair.

"I beg your pardon?" Ghirahim sniffed, a miffed expression on his hawkish face. _That's a good look for a villain, disdainful. This kid might have something._

"Special effects. Green screen. We can do that too. Anything else?" Demise raised a clipboard from his desk, pencil poised a the ready.

"I can summon blades and turn my body into a large sword itself..." The actor rattled off, pausing to sigh, then continued. "I have the exceptional talent of being able to sigh for incredible amounts of time, which adds to my strange and mysterious persona, I can vanish and re-materialize to the greater effect, and I can lick people."

"Excuse me?" Demise stopped doodling a flower on Ghirahim's application and looked up sharply. Then again, this was the guy who had opened a door with his tongue. What was he to expect?

"I have no qualms with personal hygiene." The actor declared, and Demise shuddered. That was _truly_ evil. "Also, my tongue was measured to be the longest by Hyrule's Book of Realm Records for five years running." From the back of Ghirahim's leggings emerged five golden plaques. Demise had no idea where they had come from, and frankly he didn't want to.

"Well, let me sum of my impressions of you so far." Demise raised his clipboard, straining to read the words he had scrawled down underneath his Zelink fanart. "You're disgusting, perverted, extremely disturbing to young audiences, and severely unhygienic. When I add all of those words together you know what I get, son?"

"What?" The actor tossed his hair and began to sigh, polishing one of his plaques with his seemingly endless tongue, and Demise had to fight the urge to recoil with disgust. _Perfect. Think like the audience._

 _They'll hate him._

 _He's perfect._

"You're hired."

 **You know, I see what they mean about Demise being the epitome of chaos and darkness. Not recycling is a real crime.**

 **If you enjoyed drop in a review and tell me what you think so far! Next game is A Link Between Worlds... Any ideas? Favorite scenes? Your wish is my command... Sort of. ;)**

 **Well, I guess that's all for now. Don't forget to review! (Go Team TTC!)**

 **Until next time!**


	23. A Link Between Worlds: Wimbledon

**Per a reviewer's request I was watching the last boss battle against Yuga and this gem of an idea appeared. With my negligible knowledge of Wii Tennis and a quick check to 'Basic Tennis Rules' I present to you... Wimbledon.**

 **Enjoy and read on!**

"It's really heating up here in the competition of a lifetime! Oh, fans of tennis around the world are coveting these seats in the famed Coliseum, where only the best of the best face off for the title of champion! After a day of intense battling we have two semifinalists ready to go head-to-head to win the Coliseum Cup. Put your hands together for Link and Yuga!"

"Yes, yes, very well, enough with the shouting, will you?"

"But it's part of being an announcer! You physically cannot stop _shouting!"_

"That's not called being an announcer, that's called a health issue. You need to see a doctor right away."

"Oh, lighten up, will you, Impa? This is a time of celebration!"

"Celebration, no kidding. I've never seen a rowdier group in decades."

"Centuries, you mean. Anyways, back to the competition! It's going to be a tough one – both competitors are incredibly skilled and have worked their hardest to get here. Introducing Yuga!"

"Oh, quiet down, will you? I'm trying to do my job here. Yuga, yes. Look at that ridiculous hair, isn't it crazy what kids these days are doing? Back when I was a teenager everyone's hair was a normal color, thank you very much. I am on topic! Yes, Yuga. Er... Where was that notecard you gave me?"

"Yuga! What a marvelous opponent! He holds himself with grace and poise on the court, although he can turn into a wild animal when things get intense! He's sure to pose a difficult threat to the challenger and newcomer to the competition, Link."

"Right, Link. Where was that notecard you gave me on him, too?"

"Link! _Impa, you're not supposed to tell them I gave you notecards!_ Wielding his trademarked racquet, nicknamed the Master Sword, this newbie really showed his stuff today on the court. I'm sure Yuga's sweating now seeing him walk onto the court. Listen to the crowd roar! Looks like our newbie has quite the following."

"Be quiet, we're trying to announce here! Darn kids..."

" _Impa!_ What was I saying? Ah, Yuga has serve. The ball's up... And a marvelous retaliation by Link, what a swing, but Yuga is hardly fazed. I see the starts of some magic energy accumulating on Yuga's racquet, charging for a power swing..."

"Back in my day we played tennis normally, without magic, and we _liked_ it that way!"

"Times change... Ignore her, ladies and gentlemen. Point for Link! We're at fifteen-love now. Yuga's looking intense now, coiled like a spring, preparing like a predator stalking his prey..."

"You exaggerate too much. He's just standing there."

"Oh, excuse me. Yuga _just stands there_ as Link prepares to serve. And what a serve it is, folks, screaming down the court, but Yuga bats it away like a pesky fly. He's preparing for a power strike... And there it is, rocketing past Link – I don't believe it! Our newbie manages to get it over the net! Yuga's too slow to catch up! Thirty-love!"

"Tell the crowd to be quiet! I can't see over all the noise!"

"Um... Right. Link serves again, down the left side, where Yuga's rumored to be weaker, but it's a powerful strike right back, Link fumbles the pass and it's into the net. Thirty-fifteen!"

"Why are people cheering for that red-haired punk? I bet he's going to go spray paint a house or something after this. Isn't that what those young 'ns do these days?"

"With any luck it'll be your house... Yuga winding up for the serve, and it's a hard drive down the right side, speeding right past Link! Thirty all! Listen to the crowd roar! It's all tied up now!"

"We could have surmised as much, you don't have to bellow it in my ear."

"Yuga's serving again, an easy pass by Link, and a power shot from his opponent – that's using magic right! I don't believe my eyes, Link fires it right back and oh, that's got to hurt, he's got him right between the eyes! Yuga drops like a stone... I shouldn't laugh..."

"That's karma for you, filthy punk!"

" _Impa, you're not supposed to be partial! People will think we're biased!_ "

"He's a punk! Partiality can go by the wayside."

"Well, Link has the point, and he's readying himself for the serve, straight back at Yuga – makes you wonder if he's aiming for the poor schmuck, that first hit looked like it hurt – and Yuga's back in the game, playing harder than ever! Link is forced on the defensive as Yuga powers up another magic swing... And it's in the far corner out of Link's reach! Forty all!"

"What do they call this thing again? A duel? A dupe? Where's that rulebook you gave me?"

" _Impa! You have to at least pretend you know what you're doing!"_

"Do... Do... Deuce! That's it! Deuce."

"Thank you for that shocking reveal, Impa, and we're back to the game. I guess I should say _I'm_ back to the game... Yuga reaching up for a massive strike towards Link, but our newbie fires back at him with power I've never witnessed before on this court! It's going to be a tough volley as the ball rockets back and forth between them – did Yuga just stumble? And Link presses forward to take the point! The advantage goes to Link!"

"It says here that a deuce –"

"Yes, thank you, Impa. Back to the game, this could be the deciding point for our match. Tennis fans call it the dead man's volley – one misstep can be your demise. You can feel the concentration and energy radiating off of these remarkable players as they ready themselves for the serve... And here it comes! Link sends a bullet of a serve straight at Yuga, who sends it back with ease, playing it short... A powerful strike to the back corner, but he twists and it's over! What sportsmanship! What elegance! What grace!"

"Keep going at this rate and you'll run out of nouns by nightfall."

"Thank you for that delightful comment, Impa... Yuga sends it up high, too high, and – do my eyes deceive me? Link leaps for the ball, soaring into the air like an eagle –"

"Or like a person, seeing as he is one."

"Impa, I'm having an announcer moment right now! Anyways, Link leaps for the ball, swinging his arm down with enough power to cleave a boulder in two, and Yuga is powerless to stop him! The ball screams into his side of the court and that's the game! What a show of athletic skill and prowess! Oh, they'll be talking about this match for ages... What a game of dead man's volley, folks! As always, I'm Ravio and this is Impa, wishing you a wonderful night!"

"Yes, yes, thank you – I can't believe I'm thanking these people – goodnight and good riddance!"

 **Next game is Triforce Heroes - WE'RE ALMOST AT THE END OF CANON GAMES. Any ideas? Much appreciated :)**

 **It would mean a lot if you reviewed and told me what you think so far! Questions, comments, concerns? I gotcha. Thanks a million!**

 **Go Team TTC! Until next time!**

 **(Hey and P.S. you guys are amazing. I don't tell you often enough. Thank you! 100% not bribery/flattery here. Thank you!)**


	24. Tri Force Heroes: VillainCon

**Another update so soon? This brilliant gem appeared and hey, why not? Enjoy our last installment for the canon games (AAAAAH)**

 **Enjoy and read on!**

"We gather here today at VillainCon to celebrate the nefarious achievements of villains across generations!" Ganondorf's booming voice echoed through the auditorium, followed by a chorus of clapping, staff-banging, and garbled moaning. "It is my great pleasure to introduce today the newest member of our despicable society – Lady Maud!"

Rising from her chair, an older lady strutted over to the podium, completely refined despite her gaudy and obviously uncomfortable outfit. A strange stiff collar spread around her shoulders and she waved her parasol at the assembled crowd with a patronizing air, still winning a few shouts of encouragement. The room filled with the smell of charred cloth as a certain dragon shot off an inferno of fire from its maw, earning another round of applause.

"Lady Maud." Ganondorf shook her hand and gestured her to the podium, armor clattering together as he did so. "Would you like to say a word?"

"Of course I would, mon ami. All of your unstylish friends could do with a few fashion tips." The Lady's eyes fell on a Bokoblin's loincloth and her nose wrinkled with disgust.

"Ah, yes. Perhaps we could do with fashion tips later? My men are just dying to hear of your evil deeds."

"And women!" A collection of witches shrieked from the back.

At the sound of 'evil deeds' the auditorium erupted with a chorus of hollers, magic spells, and unintelligible grunts. A flutter of Keese swarmed over the stage, stirred by the excitement, and when they had cleared Lady Maud leaned in towards the microphone, a smile plastered across her face. After taking a moment to smooth back her hair, which had been ruffled by the sudden Keese attack, she began to speak.

"I –" She pointed dramatically to herself – "Am happy to see you!" Each syllable was exaggerated, like she was talking to a young child, and Ganondorf's ever-present smile fell to an uncomfortable wince.

"Lady Maud, it might do you better to address the crowd in a more intelligent way?" He suggested, followed by a cacophony of noise from the gathered evil minions. A few turncoat soldiers started the wave on the left side of the auditorium, which the Lady took to be a cue to continue.

"Yes. It is my honor to be inducted amongst your decidedly depraved – and fashion-blind – masses. This establishment is well-known for its acts of terror and treachery, and terrible sense of style." She shuddered, grimacing. "A crime indeed."

"Ah, yes! Look at our members! Evil wizards, apparitions, hell-beasts, all so different, but united in one common cause, to crush the light that blights Hyrule!" Ganondorf interjected, and a shrill series of howls erupted from the Wolfos section. "Can we not all boast of great deeds?"

As if on cue a microphone was passed around the crowd and various monsters and necromancers were given an opportunity to share their foul actions, to the great pleasure of the crowd.

"I attacked the Hero's pirate ship three times!" A high-pitched voice shouted from the back. "Once I got away with a rupee!" The pirate section roared and 'ar, me hearty'-d their approval.

"I stole the princess!" A random member of the crowd called out.

"So has everyone else here!" Another member responded, and gales of laughter ensued. Lady Maud tapped her microphone to bring the attention back to the stage, and reluctantly everyone settled down, although the Darknuts were slightly difficult to subdue.

"And what, Lady Maud, can you brag of? Daring escapes from the palace, princess in tow? Have you inflicted a wound upon the Hero of Time? Perhaps burned a village, struck fear in the hearts of a civilization?" Ganondorf's eyes grew bright and he looked at the Lady with renewed interest, who appeared slightly paler.

"Have you razed a kingdom?" An eager voice called from the right side of the crowd.

"Stolen candy from a baby? That's evil! Or wait – how about robbed a bank?"

Clearing her throat, Lady Maud stepped forward, rubbing her hands together in a gesture of evil anticipation. "You wish me to serenade you with my rancorous deeds? I shall. I, Lady Maud, the most fashion-savvy woman in all the land, prepared a curse for the princess."

"Poison? Death?"

"Did you banish her to the Dark World? That wouldn't be very evil, though, I hear it's a nice vacation destination this time of year."

"If there would be no more interruptions, please!" In a saccharine sweet voice the Lady silenced the crowd, who leaned forward in their seats to hear more. A bellowing crash thundered from the back of the room when a Stalfos leaned forward too far and crushed a handful of Bokoblins who had been sitting in front of him, but once the smoke and deceased auras had cleared from the air Lady Maud continued.

"Placing this curse in a delightfully wrapped box, blue and pink are such lovely springtime complements, but only if they match your skin tone… Excuse my rambling. I sent this package to the princess, who was so overwhelmed with curiosity that she opened it!"

A gasp echoed around the auditorium and Lady Maud gave a graceful yet fashionable cackle. "The princess' curse immediately fell upon her –"

"Disembowelment!"

"Death!"

"And lo, the princess, known for her adorably cute fashion sense, found herself garbed in a hideous black bodysuit!"

The cheers and excited whispers were all stilled. Shifting on his feet, Ganondorf glanced over at Lady Maud with a look close to pity. "A bodysuit, you said?"

"Oh, yes! And try as she might, the princess could never remove it! I truly am evil…" The Lady cackled again, and a weak cry of approval sounded from the Deku Babas, although they were really just trying to spit poison at her. This was all unbeknownst to Lady Maud, who tossed the Deku Babas a smile.

"So you mean to tell me that you sent the princess a curse in a box…"

"Yes!"

"Not even possessing the bravery to give it to her yourself…"

"Yes!"

"In a play of underhanded trickery unbefitting of a villain…"

"Yes! Yes!"

"And instead of a curse that would cause pain, misfortune, or death… Yours outfitted her in a black bodysuit."

"An _ugly_ black bodysuit! Don't forget the ugly part! Aren't I a true evil mastermind?"

Silence reigned in the auditorium as the question hung in the balance. All eyes were on Ganondorf as he pondered the question, ran a hand through his hair, tapped his chin, and in a moment of breathless anticipation he wheeled on Lady Maud, having come to a consensus.

"That is the most evil thing I have ever heard in my _life!_ Everyone, welcome, Lady Maud!"

 **SoooOOoooooO now that the canon games are done what should I write about? Suggestions would be super welcome right now - I'm thinking of writing a sequel to the Wind Waker chapters but if you have any other suggestions they'd be _much_ appreciated. This is really weird... It's strange not to have another game to look into!**

 **Anyways, I know that these author's notes look like small novels in mobile version, so I'll conclude it for now. Reviews would be much appreciated! Thanks as always for reading and I'll get the creative juices flowing :)**

 **Until next time! (Who knows what it will be?)**


	25. CSI: Clock Town

**Welcome back to the non-canon section of TTC! Or, non-canon until we get a name for Zelda U. We'll see.**

 **I guess I should explain this chapter - in my other Zelda fanfic, I mentioned a certain show ( _CSI: Clock Town_ ) and... this happened. Starring Zelda as our leading, tough-as-nails cop, Link, the sharp and witty freelancer, and a few other characters along for the ride, who knows what will happen? Enjoy and read on!**

"Who's our vic?" Zelda peered down at the body floating belly-up in the water, limbs bloated and distended. A light drizzling rain fell into the small canal, peppering the water in rings.

"Name of Baito. Lives in that house right there." Kafei pointed to a small, ramshackle apartment complex across the canal. A few bystanders had gathered behind the yellow police tape, peering at the floating corpse.

"What do we know about him?" Leaning over the filthy canal, Zelda watched with a professional eye as a few of the nearby officers hoisted the body out of the water with some difficulty.

"He weighs as much as a Bullbo." One of them grumbled under his breath as he strained to raise Baito from the murky surface of the water.

"Our killer left his weapon behind." Anju, Kafei's partner, pointed to a long blade stuck between Baito's shoulder blades, slick with congealed blood. "Now we know cause of death."

"Not necessarily." A voice sounded form behind her and Zelda turned to see one of the members of the gathered crowd step forward, a man no older than her dressed in a long green trench coat. He eyed the body coolly and raised his head, smirking as he met Zelda's intense gaze. "See the contusions around the neck and on the hands? Obvious signs of a struggle and asphyxiation."

"Excuse me, but who are you? This is a private crime scene." Kafei asked irritably, crossing his arms. "You shouldn't be here."

The man shrugged, smiling ruefully. "Just trying to help."

"He's right." Mack, CTPD's medical examiner, knelt beside the body, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "I'd estimate time of death at three hours ago? I'll have a better estimate when we get him back to the lab."

"Good. So our killer knifed the vic in the back, then strangled him to death." Zelda mused, eyes focused on the churning depths of the canal.

"And it was down to Davy Jones' locker for him." The man from the side commented, and Zelda wheeled on him, frowning. "What? Face it, that tip was a good one."

"We would have discovered the contusions soon enough." Zelda snapped, which only earned another smirk from the man. "I think it would be in your best interest to head home, sir."

The man's smirk grew and he ran a hand over his chin, as if thinking. "Sir, I think I like that. The name's Link, officer, but you can call me whatever you like." He flashed her a roguish grin and pressed a business card into her hand. "If you ever need some help with this case, just call me."

"I'd rather end up like Baito did." Zelda replied, walking away from him at a brisk pace. Anju raised an eyebrow as she approached, accurately judging her story expression.

"You'd rather end up like Baito? I never heard you so cold towards guys, Zel, and especially cute ones." She nudged Zelda in the arm and she rolled her eyes.

"Please. He was interfering with the crime scene. Can we just get back to the precinct and find our more about our vic?"

Anju turned to Kafei and shrugged. "Fine, if you insist. We'll pack up here. But keep that card, okay? He _is_ cute." Before Zelda could protest she followed Kafei back to one of the squad cars and peeled away.

Casting one glance back at the strange man in the crowd, Zelda turned and entered her own car, slamming the door behind her.

 **…**

"Baito Thames. Age thirty-seven, occupation as a part-time worker at the trading post, works late shifts. He popped on our evaluation for one count of assault and battery when he was twenty, during a protest for an environmental club, something about gravity and moon." Kafei placed a photo of Baito one one of the cork boards that lined Zelda's office. "Other than that, the guy's clean."

"Any next of kin?" Leaning back in her chair, Zelda scrutinized Baito's face.

"Yeah, a fiancee. We're bringing her in now, and Anju's going to ask her a few questions. I just thought, you know, a girl might want to do it." Kafei shrugged. "Plus, I never know what to do when they start crying."

Zelda laughed lightly, tearing her gaze from Baito's features to Kafei's embarrassed face. "Oh, come off it. The impenetrable Kafei gets nervous when girls cry?"

Kafei's blush darkened and he started for the door, muttering something about murder files and the records room. Zelda followed him out, where Anju was leading a distraught-looking woman to a sitting area. The woman looked near tears and Zelda tapped Kafei on the shoulder.

"I won't judge if you look away during the intense bits." She whispered, and Kafei scowled.

"I'll never hear the end of this, will I?"

"Where did you say our vic worked again?" Zelda asked, rifling through the case file in her hands. "The trading post?"

"Yeah, the one on Seventh and Main in West Clock Town. Why, are you going to go down there?"

Zelda closed the file quickly. "Might as well check it out. Think there'll be any leads?"

Kafei shrugged. "Apparently our vic worked late shifts. Maybe his manager was the last one to see him alive. It couldn't hurt. Want me to come with?" He offered, and Zelda inclined her head to where Anju sat, comforting the now sobbing fiancee of Baito.

"Sure – after all, I'm sure you're begging for release from all of these crying women." She teased, and Kafei groaned loudly.

"Fine, but only if I can drive." He bartered, and Zelda gave in, nodding.

"Sure. Just don't get too stressed if your terrible driving skills bring a _tear_ to my eye."

Kafei's scowl deepened and he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Both Baito and that joke are dead. Don't make me add your name to the list."

 **…**

Zelda and Kafei entered the trading post late at night, the flickering streetlights casting long shadows on the sidewalk. The shop's manager, a sleazy-looking man with a comb-over, gave them a long glare before returning to polishing his countertop. Zelda gave the shop a long examination, and then observed the manager, who had yet to speak to them. As she walked the length of the shop Kafei began to converse with the man.

"So, it's a real shame about your partner. We're doing everything we can to track down his killer."

"Yeah, whatever. Baito was a lowlife and a slacker. He deserved what he got." The manager spat, and while Kafei looked shocked Zelda moved in on the manager, hoping to extract more information.

"Can you elaborate?" She asked, and the manager lit a thick cigar, puffing smoke as he mused over his answer.

"I meant what I said." He growled, chewing on the end of his cigar irritably, and Zelda frowned.

"What did Baito do when he worked here?" Kafei asked, opening a small notebook and pulling out a pen.

The manager gave the officer a scornful glare before turning his narrowed eyes to Zelda. "This and that."

Brushing past the manager despite his cries of protest, Zelda stormed into the back room of the trading post. Behind the shelves of arrows and potions she saw a multitude of boxes, battered and dirty. The stained postage marks showed they were orders from somewhere in Hyrule Field, and Zelda turned back to the manager, whose face had drained of color.

"Can you explain these?" When he didn't respond she turned back to the boxes and opened the flaps swiftly. Inside were a few empty bottles and pebbles, nothing more.

"Someone cleaned them out before we got here." Kafei cursed, then turned to the manager. "These boxes are addressed for Baito. What did he do here?"

"We're blown!" The manager shrieked, then sprinted for the door. Kafei barked out another oath and jumped after him. A low sound from behind Zelda made her turn and she peered into the shadows of the alley behind the shop, where a dark figure was darting off into the night.

"Stop! CTPD!" She yelled at the figure, drawing her pistol and chasing after the fleeing shape, only to watch it disappear into the shadows. Cautiously she slowed her pace and held her firearm in front of her, tensed and prepared to fire.

"Come out! I am armed and ready to fire!" Her voice echoed in the silence of the shadows, and a shuffling sound to her left made her spin. As she took a step toward the noise someone tackled her from behind, launching the both of them against the alley wall.

Fireworks erupted in Zelda's skull as she collided with the brick, but she forced herself around and lashed out at her assailant, raising her weapon, but it was ripped from her grasp before she could fire. A thunderous crash sounded as she was shoved into a large trash bin and then punched brutally in the ribs. With a shriek she swiped her hand across the attacker's face, feeling her nails dig furrows in flesh. A low growl and stream of curses were the only sounds that alerted her that she had succeeded. She was about the strike again when the force that shoved her against the bin was released and she crumpled to the ground, gasping at the lacing pain that stabbed through her ribs. Someone gave a garbled shout and a body hit the ground with a thump, but Zelda's thoughts were already fading as she slumped against the wall.

"I think I'm going to want my card back." A cocky voice broke the silent pause after the fight, Zelda's last sensation before she fell unconscious.

 **dun dun dunnnn *cues YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH***

 **Anyways, what do you think so far of _CSI: Clock Town_? Any of you geniuses know who the murderer is yet? I would be both surprised and impressed, but mostly impressed. Go ahead and guess!**

 **Reviews would be much appreciated! You guys always make my day with your feedback. Thank you thank you thank you for reading!**

 **I guess that's all for now. Until next time!**

 **(YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!)**

 **(If you don't get the 'yeah' thing... It just wouldn't be a CSI story without it.)**


	26. CSI: Clock Town (Part II)

**Hello, greetings, et cetera and welcome back to TTC!**

 **I guess I have the slightest bit of explaining to do - yes, this is an AU, so if any of the characters seem _out of character,_ that would be why. Funnily enough, I had originally planned for the sweet darling princess Zelda to solve crimes in elegant ball gowns with cutesy woodland creatures, but the focus group vetoed it.**

 **(Yep, the sarcasm is strong with this one today. And I don't actually have a focus group.)**

 **So yeah, the characters may seem different. Be forewarned.**

 **And also, after you're been properly forewarned, read on! ;)**

Zelda awoke feeling like a legion of soldiers were marching through her brain matter. Groaning, she raised herself from her bed and rubbed her eyes. When she blinked blearily she noticed that her room appeared darker that usual, and a musky smell made her wrinkle her nose. Realization hit her like a slap to the face and she jumped upright, reaching for her pistol, but it was gone, along with her badge.

Scowling, she observed her surroundings carefully. She was in a shabby apartment, with peeling wallpaper and dingy windows that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in ages. Clothes and yellowing newspapers were stacked throughout the room in teetering piles. Curious, she picked one up from the mess and read the headline.

 _Gerudo Cartel Disbanded._ Underneath was a picture of a smiling officer shaking hands with the mayor. The drug gang had been infested in Castle Town for years until a team of officers uncovered their distribution center.

 _Hinox Murder Baffles Police._ She remembered that case, when Kafei had taken point and single-handedly saved an innocent Hinox from a murder charge.

 _Keaton-Masked Killer Strikes Again._ Zelda smirked when she recalled how Anju had accused Kafei of being the Keaton Killer a year ago, then ended up running into the killer himself in an alley.

Each of the articles detailed a crime of some sort, from positively brutal to frivolous. Every so often Zelda would come upon a comment in nearly illegible handwriting, detailing 'clues' or 'ties' to other cases. It was a very intricate operation and Zelda found herself feeling more and more respect for the collector as she continued to read.

Then she saw the bulletin board.

The surface of the board was practically coated in paper. Multicolored thumbtacks stuck each receipt, file and photograph in place, some tied together with string to make connections. Zelda's eyes followed one string to a picture of the victim of her case, Baito. About ten other thumbtacks were linked to it, a random assortment of his things. A water bill, a grocery list, and, strangest of all a calendar page that appeared to be torn from a personal planner. She examined this with the most interest, wondering if Baito had any questionable activity he had recorded. Why hadn't CSU found this at Baito's place?

One cluster of photos was clumped around a copy of the Gerudo Cartel article. A blurry photo was tacked onto the article with a large question mark drawn on. _Leader? More evidence._ The handwriting was the same as the writing in the newspapers.

The photo that most unnerved her, though, was her own photograph, from Baito's crime scene. Gathered around her photo were similar items to Baito's but what she noticed first were his pistol and badge on the desk below her picture. Quickly she snatched them both up, feeling more secure now that she had a weapon, and turned back to the apartment.

The previous night was still a blur, but she remembered the voice of the man from the crime scene, Link, before she fell unconscious. Did he cart her off after she had passed out? Why hadn't Kafei noticed him? A thousand questions buzzed through her mind and she sat on the bed, releasing a short huff of breath. She wasn't helping anyone by lingering, though, so she started for the door.

Before she left, though, she took detailed photographs of the bulletin board. If the person who had found Baito's personal planner had equally sound information posted, she would need to peruse the board's contents thoroughly.

As she walked to the door a low voice rumbled from the bathroom, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

In half a second her pistol was drawn and aimed at the figure as it sauntered from the shadows, hands raised in surrender. "Okay, okay, you got me."

"You?" Zelda spat, still keeping her gun raised. Link waltzed out and winked at her, then sidestepped her weapon and walked over to the living area.

"I'm surprised _you're_ surprised. I thought you were smarter than that." He noted, and Zelda felt heat rise to her face as she turned to face him. Reluctantly she placed her pistol back in her holster.

"Wouldn't have done much good, anyways. I removed the bullets." Link pointed to the pistol and she bristled.

"Is there anything you didn't meddle with?" Zelda demanded, crossing her arms.

Link tapped his chin, then walked over to the desk and leaned against it, all nonchalance. "Well, I don't know if you would call it meddling, but I think I'm further in the case than the cops are right now."

"By tampering with a private crime scene." Zelda shot back. "I have half the mind to arrest you right now."

She hoped the threat would subdue the man's cocky attitude, but instead he simply laughed. "That's rich, sweetheart. But you know as well as I do that you need me to solve this case."

"And how do I know that?"

"You saw the board. You know I have leads that would take you weeks to dig up. One of the benefits of not being shackled to the law – you get a lot more leeway. Face the facts, I'm ten steps ahead of you."

Zelda ran over the information in her head, considering Link's advantage in the situation. He did have more evidence, but he also didn't know that she had photographed his clues. All the same, he could be a useful asset... And she would be breaking about a hundred laws.

"What did you find?" She asked, and he gestured to the bed.

"Please, sit down."

"I'd rather stand, if it's all the same to you." Her tone was icy and Link raised his eyebrows, thankfully refraining from an equally snappy remark.

"Your vic, Baito, wasn't as clean as he seemed. One look at his planner showed that soon enough. Personally, I think carrying around a personal planner is equal to handing in your masculinity, but that's beside the point. Lots of various appointments, marked with initials, presumably for clients."

"That's not evidence. He could be a secret psychiatrist for all we know."

Link angled his head towards her, a small smile edging on his lips. "All _you_ know. I know better. I looked into those box labels from the back room of that shop, which is in fact a sleeper cell for the Gerudo Cartel. You might want to go arrest that guy, I have the evidence around here somewhere. Anyways, each of those shipments came from parts of Hyrule Field known for their shifty behavior, especially with growing choice _plants_ , if you get my meaning."

"He was a drug runner?"

Link nodded, turning and rifling through a stack of paper on the desk. "From what I can figure, yes. The initials would be for his clients, of course, and night shifts at the shop would connect him with the Gerudo Cartel. We can assume that's where he received his shipments, and he distributed them during daytime."

Zelda started to pace, committing each fact to memory. "Why the daytime? Wouldn't it be easier to sell at night, in secluded places?"

Link simply shrugged, brushing off her comment. "Hiding in plain sight is a good tactic. Our vic was smart, but not smart enough to keep himself from getting killed."

Rounding sharply on Link, Zelda glared at him, suddenly apprehensive. "Why are you helping me? Why did you drag my unconscious body to wherever we are now? Why have you gathered this evidence, and why are you sharing it with me? Everything comes with a price." Although she wanted to trust Link, she found her hand drifting towards her pistol again.

Link's gaze and cocky attitude both dropped in a second. "Just trying to do my part. You'll let me on now, right?"

"On what?" Zelda narrowed her eyes at Link, who smiled wryly.

"You're going to let me on the case."

 _Two can play at this game._ Zelda matched his smirk and pulled out her pistol, fiddling with the magazine. Sure enough, Link had removed the bullets. "Tell you what, I'll have you consult. But –" She raised a hand as Link leaped to his feet, pumping his fist in the air – "You're going to have to pursue a lead with me. Not everyone was made for field work, and I wan't to make sure you don't soil your pants the first time danger comes around."

"Oh, please. You're talking to the man who vanquished your mysterious attacker. Speaking of him, in our scuffle I must have _accidentally_ snatched some hairs from his head, you know how these things happen."

"Of course." Zelda nodded, unable to keep her expression deadpan.

"It sure would be convenient if I know a police officer who had access to a lab where DNA samples could be tested." Link sighed. "That would be just swell, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, swell. Come on, let's go run a DNA test."

 **The sarcasm really _is_ strong today!**

 **All right, now we know that Baito's crooked. Who do you think did him in? One of the Gerudo Cartel members? Maybe even Link himself? You can't trust anyone in a murder mystery... And thus CSI: Clock Town continues!**

 **It would mean a lot to me if you reviewed, and I actually have a request this time: If you do review, would you mind telling me your favorite chapter(s) of TTC? I want to know what you all enjoyed so I can post more like them after CSI is over. Thank you so so much!**

 **Wait... Does that make you my focus group? (Nah, you're still the amazing awesome reader.)**

 **Well, this author's note is getting lengthy, so I'll call it quits for now. Until next time!**

 **(YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!)**


	27. CSI: Clock Town (Part III)

**The much-awaited, long-anticipated next installment to _CSI: Clock Town_ has arrived! Prepare for some surprising twists and turns... I think I'm getting into this mystery writing stuff. **

**Enjoy and read on!**

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Zelda's jaw dropped when she saw the man collapsed in a heap on the interrogation table. _Drooling._

"Meet our perp, a fellow who goes by the 'Bean Seller.'" Anju raised her eyebrows. "When we confronted him about coming in for questioning he asked Kafei if he wanted a pod of 'beans.' I have him recorded word-for-word. Listen to this, 'first one's free.'"

Zelda leaned closer to the glass while the Bean Seller's corpulent arm slouched off of the table. "You think he's a seller for the Gerudo Cartel?"

Anju snorted and shook her head. "Are you kidding? That's guy's as high as the stratosphere right now. I don't think he's ever conducted serious business in his life."

"Kafei, come in with me." Zelda nodded to him. "Let's crack him."

Zelda swung the door open with enough force to smash it against the wall, making the Bean Seller jump about a foot in the air.

"Ayy, whazzya talkin' bout?" He slurred, rubbing the back of his bald head. "Are you an angel?" Clouded eyes squinted at Zelda and she scowled, taking a seat opposite the man.

"Sir, I'm a police officer, and we're here to investigate a murder."

"Who ate the dust? Wazzit you? Augh, ghost!" The Bean Seller screeched, and Kafei tilted his head to the side.

"How high _are_ you?" He asked the man, who smiled limply.

"Yes."

"Ah. Well, that clears it up." Kafei mumbled, taking a seat next to Zelda and pulling out a notepad.

Zelda carefully nudged Kafei's notebook away from the puddles of drool on the table. "Um, Mister Bean Seller..."

"Please, call me BS. All of my friends do."

Kafei smothered a laugh and Zelda hastily coughed into her fist, hiding a smile. "All right, BS. Do you know a man named Baito?"

"Yeah! The world will always welcome lovers as time goes Bai-to!" The Bean Seller warbled out a tune, voice cracking and wavering, making Zelda wince. "Yeah, I knew him. He had a smokin' missus with him, too. Why, is he a deader?"

"Mister BS –" Kafei snickered again – "Where were you last night? Anywhere around the western part of the city?"

"Nope, nope, nope. I was here!" One flabby arm waved in a vague gesture around the interrogation room.

"You were here... In the precinct?" Kafei looked up from his notebook, brows furrowed.

"A jail cell. Somethin' 'bout illegal sub... Sub... Substrates!"

"Illegal substances?" Zelda supplied.

"Yes! I was just sellin' beans!" He leaned in, a rogueish smile on his face. "First one's free."

"Get him out of here." Zelda rolled her eyes and stormed out of the interrogation room, leaving Kafei to deal with the Bean Seller. The same warbling tune followed her out the door and she thought she heard Kafei groan as she closed the door. When she stepped out of the room she almost ran into Link, who was waiting outside with hands in pockets.

"What are you doing here?" She ordered, and Link placed a hand on his chest.

"I think 'Hi, honey, how was your day?' would work better here." He smirked and she raised an eyebrow.

"Seeing as you're talking to someone with a loaded firearm I would keep any smartass comments to yourself."

Raising his hands, Link stepped back. "Point taken. To answer your question, your friend let me in." He nodded towards Anju, who waved. When Link had turned away she made a heart symbol with her hands and winked at Zelda. Keeping her expression impassive, Zelda turned back to Link.

"His alibi checks out, too – BS was here when you were attacked. Sorry, couldn't keep a straight face. Of all the nicknames..." He shrugged.

"Right." Zelda crossed her arms, thinking. "He mentioned the girlfriend. Do you think he has any information on her?"

At that moment Kafei poked his head out of the interrogation room. "Zelda? You might want to hear this."

 **. . .**

"Where did you get your products, BS? And don't say a garden. Dealers always think they're so smart." Kafei snapped, making the Bean Seller shrink back in his chair. The chair underneath his gave a groan of protest, probably nearing its maximum weight limit.

"All right, all right! You don't have to yell." He muttered, picking at his nails. "I didn't grow them myself."

"He's a real clever one." Kafei growled. "Come on, there's a man dead because of this case. Tell us where you bought your products!"

The Bean Seller let out a long sigh. "All right! It's the chick. She meets me in the alley behind the trading post, I think that's where her goods are delivered. I never stopped to check, so she gives me the stuff, okay? Then I'm off."

"Wait... She? Baito's girlfriend?" Zelda frowned.

"That's what I said, innit?" The Bean Seller moaned. "It was the chick!"

Zelda rounded on Kafei. "Baito wasn't the one who was dealing drugs – it was his finacee!"

"He might not be involved in the case at all." Kafei lowered his voice so the Bean Seller couldn't hear. "Think Baito's girl was in the Cartel?"

"Anything's possible." Zelda whispered. "Go bring her in, take Anju with you."

While Kafei and Anju left to hunt Baito's girlfriend Zelda relayed the new information to Link.

"It's a classic twist!" He announced when she finished. "Baito might be the innocent victim, wrong-place-wrong-time. Or maybe he stumbled across something of the girlfriend's he shouldn't have. But it still doesn't explain who attacked you in the alley. He definitely wasn't the Bean Seller, but how did BS's hair get on your attacker?"

Zelda shrugged, walking over to one of her bulletin boards. A single photograph of Baito's finacee was pinned next to his. "For now let's focus on her. Nothing popped for her background. So far she looks clean."

"All of the nastiest ones do." Link noted, sitting behind her desk and propping his feet up on a pile of case files.

Soon after Kafei called in to report that they had captured the girlfriend of Baito. "She claims innocence, but we caught her packing up her bags. She was trying to flee Termina."

"Why? Obviously she was making good money selling 'beans,' and was good enough at it not to get caught. Why would she run?"

"Trouble with the Cartel? She's scared out of her wits, begging to be put under witness protection or something. Keeps saying that someone's after her, kind of creepy."

"Just get her back here fast." Zelda hung up the phone and Link swiveled to face the case photos on the bulletin board.

"So, a drug dealer who sees something the Cartel doesn't want her to." He mused. "Something that gets Baito killed, maybe as a punishment. She knows that she's next, and this information is too vital for the Cartel to lose. So, she tries to get out of the country. Makes sense."

Zelda walked over to the board and traced a line between the girlfriend's picture and Baito's. "What could they know? We need that information now."

"And it might help us bring down the Cartel. Hey, I'm all for that."

Kafei and Anju arrived minutes later, with Baito's girlfriend between them. Zelda noticed her hunched posture and how her eyes scanned the room for immediate threats – she really thought she was being hunted.

"We're keeping her in a cell for the night and we'll interview tomorrow." Anju told Zelda as they passed. "It's almost midnight, why are you still here?"

"Lost track of time, I guess." Link answered, then extended an arm. "Shall we go?"

Zelda pushed his arm away. "I can get to the door by myself, thanks."

They separated in the parking lot and Zelda drove home in silence, the new facts of the case buzzing through her mind. Baito's girlfriend had some dirt on the Cartel, information that got her finacee killed. Her mysterious attacker somehow knew or was linked to the Bean Seller. Could things get even more complicated?

Once she reached her apartment she read through the case file until the words on the page began to blur. The knife was of standard grade and couldn't be linked to the Cartel. Whoever had killed Baito had taken their time, going so far as to strange him and risking leaving fingerprints or DNA behind, but careful enough that the murderer was still untraceable. With a frustrated groan she tossed the file to the side and glanced at the clock – she had been studying the case for almost two hours.

Just before she stood to turn off the lights her phone gave an angry buzz. Zelda picked up the call and Kafei's panicked voice exploded through the phone's speaker.

"Zelda! You've got to get back here!" He hollered, and she pulled the phone away from her ear.

"What happened?" In seconds she was on her feet, hands scrabbling for her pistol.

"The precinct got broken into!" Kafei shouted.

" _What?_ Someone broke into a police station?"

"They killed Baito's girlfriend, single shot to the chest. The only was we knew we were broken into was the sound of the gunshot."

Zelda snatched her keys and darted for the door. "Was anyone hurt? Did they take anything?"

"One thing – a file on an ex-cop from a few years back." Kafei's voice lowered slightly in volume and Zelda tugged her door open, already running for the elevator.

"I'm on my way! Whose file was it?"

"Zelda... I don't know how to tell you this..." He trailed off, and Zelda felt frustration simmer inside of her.

"Kafei, this is important! Tell me now!"

"Okay. The file belonged to a now-unemployed detective... Zelda, the file is Link's."

 **Didn't see that coming, right?**

 **Okay, I am amazed with your theories! Any guesses on what Baito's girlfriend knows about the Cartel? Or who Zelda's attacker really is? Why do you think Link stopped being a cop? (So many questions, I know.)**

 **It would mean a lot to me if you reviewed with your opinion (and your amazing theories!) The inspiration for the Bean Seller was actually from a similar theory, so your opinions don't go unnoticed :)**

 **I guess that's all for now. The game is on! (Or afoot. Whichever Sherlock Holmes you prefer.)**

 **Until next time!**


	28. CSI: Clock Town (Part IV)

**So last time we left off with a staggering cliffhanger... The game really** ** _is_** **on.**

 **So don your deerstalker hats and whatever else you want to don - hey, I'm not going to be the one to tell you what and what not to don - and read on!**

"So we'll never know Luna's secret." Zelda pinned a picture of Baito's girlfriend to her bulletin board. The sheer amount of paper for the one case was staggering, and she had to take multiple steps back in order to see every lead tacked to the cork.

"Doesn't look like it." Anju leaned against Zelda's desk, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. "Did you ask Link to come in?"

"More like ordered him." Zelda sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. "I still can't believe he lied to us."

Anju shrugged, balancing her cup precariously on a stack of files. "I wouldn't say he lied to us. I mean, you never expressly asked him, 'Hey, would it just so happen that you're an ex-cop?'"

"Yeah, that would be a great conversation starter." Zelda snorted.

"People keep secrets for lots of reasons." Anju shrugged. "Maybe he was trying to protect you. Who knows? You can ask him yourself when he gets here."

A knock echoed from the door and Kafei entered, face ashen. "Just finished cleaning up in there." He swallowed slowly. "We have CSU examining for prints or trace fibers, but I'm guessing we won't find anything. Whoever did this is too smart to leave a trail."

"Make sure they double-check every inch of the cell. We need to find out who killed Luna _now._ " Zelda insisted, fighting to keep the scowl from her face. "She had the key to understanding all of this and now it's gone."

She collapsed in her chair with a huff and Anju set down her coffee cup. "Zel, you can't blame yourself for what happened."

"Yes, I _can._ And now we have no leads, no clues, absolutely nothing to go off of."

"Zelda!" The door to her office tundered open and Link jumped inside, wide-eyed and breathing hard. "What happened? Is everyone all right?"

In two brisk strides Zelda stood in front of Link, then slapped him. _Hard._

"Well, this wasn't exactly what I was expecting..." Link muttered, flexing his jaw and wincing. "What did I do this time?"

"You didn't tell me you were a cop!" She declared, heat rushing to her face.

"Did I need to? It didn't seem relevant."

Anju gestured for the door with her coffee cup. "Should I give you two a moment?"

"No, stay." Zelda shook her head. "Link, your police file was stolen last night, and Batio's girlfriend was killed. It was an inside job, and other than your file there's nothing else that was taken from the records room. Do you have any idea why they would take it? Why would anyone want to take your file?"

Link let out a slow breath, leaning back against Zelda's door. "Well, this complicates things. There were copies of some of the cases I worked. You know, standard stuff. I put some people behind bars, but none of them would waste time stealing my file. So if you're asking, I have no idea who would take the file or why."

"That settles it." Anju interjected. "Now we've got a mystery perp who killed Luna and stole your file –" She pointed a finger at Link – "And we don't know what Baito found out about Luna, or who she worked for. So we're basically at square one. Again."

"Just what I like." Link smirked. "To Luna's apartment, then?"

 **…**

"Someone does _not_ like to clean." Link noted when Zelda broke down Luna's door. "By the way, I call dibs on the next door. I've always wanted to do that."

The entire room had been tossed, with papers strewn across the floor and multiple sofas torn to shreds with stuffing leaking out of the knife cuts like wounds. Zelda carefully picked her way through the wreckage, keeping an eye out for any other intruders.

"You're on probation for now." Zelda replied, holding her pistol in front of her and keeping close to the wall, wary despite the silence of the room.

"For what? Trust issues? I thought you'd be over it by now. Yes, I was a cop! So what?" His tone was exasperated and Zelda rolled her eyes, ducking into Luna's bathroom to avoid further conversation.

"Clear!" She announced.

"Same here. No one in the kitchen. But there is something you might want to see here..."

Relaxing her stance, Zelda walked back into the living area where Link knelt on the floor. "Showing off her magnificent dust bunny collection?"

In response Link knocked his knuckles against a floorboard, and a low sound resounded from the contact. "Hollow – a classic trick, really. Whoever tossed her apartment obviously wasn't smart enough to use their ears."

Link carefully pried the board back, revealing a dark hollow space in the floor. Shining a flashlight into the shadows, Zelda reached in and extracted a single leather-bound notebook from the space.

"Look familiar?" Link asked.

"It's just like Baito's. That journal you had in your apartment... But why would they have the same one?" Zelda mused, turning over the notebook in her hands. She flipped through the pages quickly, searching for anything that could serve as a lead.

"My theory is aliens. Luna was an inside man for the aliens, being an alien herself, and then the Gerudo Cartel found of. Obviously aliens make for bad press, so when we brought her in for Baito's murder the Cartel bumped her off." Link's face was dead serious, but Zelda knew he was joking. _Hoped_ he was joking.

"That is easily the most harebrained theory I've ever heard." Zelda shook her head.

"I'm full of them."

A low buzz alerted Zelda that Kafei was calling and she stood, hoping for some evidence or good news. "Do you have something?"

"That I do... Prepare yourself for an onslaught of criminal wisdom." Kafei's voice was excited, but Zelda forced herself to not let her hopes get too high. After what happened with Luna she was desperate for a lead, though, and Kafei's animated tone was infectious.

"All right, what is it?"

Link scrambled to his feet, pointing to the phone. "Did he find something?"

Zelda nodded swiftly. "Kafei, don't make me order you to start talking..."

"Well, you're pushy. Anyways, I was doing some more research on Baito, just in case we missed something important, and his name popped on a restricted document. It's above my level of clearance, but I know a guy who knows a guy... Long story short, Baito was an informant."

"An informant? Baito?" Zelda repeated, mostly for Link's sake.

"And you won't guess where he got his intel from – no one other than the recently deceased Luna herself."

Link started to pace, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "It makes so much sense! Luna was an insider in the Gerudo Cartel. As a seller she would have access to documents and information the police couldn't dream of getting their hands on. And the cover with Baito as her boyfriend was a perfect one – no one would ever suspect them. The notebooks must have held their meeting dates. I'll bet you a million rupees Baito's mysterious meetings match up with Luna's. To think you called my theory harebrained before..."

Kafei's voice grew louder on the other side of the line and Zelda switched to speakerphone. "Is that Link? One cop to another, man..."

"I'm going to cut you off there." Zelda interrupted. "The Gerudo Cartel discovers that Baito is getting information, but they don't know who is giving it to him. To be safe they kill him. It wouldn't take them long to find out it was Luna who was his accomplice, so before she can spill the rest of their secrets they kill her as well. Link's right, it all makes sense!"

"The problem is, we don't know who killed either of them." Kafei grumbled. "How are we supposed to move on with the case? We'd have to bring in someone from the Gerudo Cartel, and they're practically ghosts."

"Not unless you have the location of their base in a notebook." Zelda pointed to an address circled in red ink on the last page of Luna's notebook. "What do you say we check it out?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

 **Say whaaaaaaaat?**

 **Hey, I would really appreciate it if you reviewed! We've passed up 75 reviews, high fives to everyone!**

 **(+1 High Five added to Inventory)**

 **Anyways, there's not much else to say here. The plot thickens... Anyone else think there's something in Link's file that he's trying to keep hidden? Any wild yet epic fan theories? (Does this mean I have fans?)**

 **I guess that's all for now, my lovely reader. Until next time!**


	29. CSI: Clock Town (Part V)

**The last installation in the CTPD series/cycle/something! Be forewarned, it is** ** _very_** **long. Or at least long by TTC standards.**

 **Enjoy and read on!**

The rumbling of tire treads echoed in Zelda's ears as she drove slowly through the endless blocks of warehouses on the outskirts of Castle Town. The entire area seemed deserted, the silence deafening, and she felt tensed and ready. Kafei sat beside her in the passenger's seat, with Link in the back.

"You know, it's a different experience altogether, not being behind the wheel." He noted, pulling at the door handle.

"Don't give me a real reason to arrest you." Zelda whispered, leaning forward over the steering wheel as the car inched forward.

"Look, I'm just as excited as you are to raid the base of the most infamous cartel in Castle Town without significant backup."

Kafei gestured for Zelda to pull over, holding Luna's notebook up. "We're here. Is our backup in position?"

Zelda tapped her radio with one finger. "Already called in. They're ready when we are."

"You know, I would feel more safe in this situation if I had a gun." Link crossed his arms.

"I'm still not sure we should bring a civilian into this." Kafei intoned in a low whisper.

"This civilian has ears, you know!" Link protested.

Carefully Zelda opened the car door and raised her pistol, but nothing posed an immediate threat. With a nod of her head Kafei and Link followed her, the latter still looking sullen, and they approached the address that Luna had written.

"And we know this is the Gerudo Cartel's base... How, exactly?"

"Someone _really_ doesn't want to raid this warehouse." Zelda shot Link a glare and he gave her a thankless smile.

"I'm keen on staying alive, that's all."

Kafei rapped his knuckles against the door of the warehouse, each knock like a gunshot in the eerie silence. After a few moments Zelda kicked at the door above the lock and a low snap alerted her that the lock had broken. Kafei shoved his shoulder against the door and the hinges splintered away, the door crashing down.

"I call dibs on the next door-smash." Link raised his eyebrows, smirking slightly.

"Let's focus on drug cartels and crime rings, okay?" Kafei stepped into a small hallway leading into the warehouse, pistol at the ready. Zelda followed him, cocking her own weapon with Link trailing behind her.

"Zelda... You might want to see this." Kafei hissed, peering through a mail slot in another door.

"Called it." Link stepped forward, preparing to knock down the door.

"Wait!" Zelda whispered, pulling him back. She knelt beside Kafei and looked through the thin slot, her jaw dropping when she saw the scene before her.

The warehouse was crammed full of desks, behind which sat a workers whose hands flew over stacks of rupees and piles of materials. The room stank with the stench of sweat and chemicals. Zelda didn't need to have any narcotics training to know what they were making.

"I guess we found the Geurdo Cartel." Link muttered. "How did Luna find it?"

"Who cares? I wish she could have seen us take the Cartel down, though." Zelda added, frowning. "It's all thanks to her that we're here this far."

"Check out those guards." Kafei pointed around the room, where groups of barrel-chested men patrolled with large swords strapped across their backs. "The Cartel means business."

"We are definitely going to need backup." Link angled his head towards the guards. "No kidding when you said they mean business. How are we going to get in there?"

Zelda settled back on her heels, a thousand ideas and half-formed plans running through her head. "We need a plan of attack. First, what is our main goal?"

"Arrest the Cartel's leader." Kafei replied firmly. "Without their leader the Cartel is just a collection of pawns. They'll fall apart."

Kafei's plan made sense – after all, these workers didn't seem like crime lords, and the leader of a drug cartel this large wouldn't have any intelligent people in high levels for fear of safety. The only problem that they faced was the Cartel's leader himself.

"How do we know who the leader _is,_ thought? We're going into this blind." Kafei's frown mirrored Zelda's.

"We wouldn't know... Unless he just walked in." Link pointed through the mail slot and Zelda leaped forward, staring through the narrow slit as one of the doors to the warehouse boomed open.

"Good morning, everyone! Who's ready for another day of organized crime?" The voice was low and booming, but strangely excited, and Zelda felt her grip on her pistol tighten.

"Kotake, Koume, looking lovely as always. Have we found a new runner to replace the one the cops found?"

Zelda stiffened and Kafei nudged her with his shoulder. _So Luna did work here._

"We're still looking for someone dedicated to the cause. I hate cops! Hate 'em!" A shrill woman's voice screeched.

"My sentiment exactly, dear." The cartel's leader sauntered into view and Zelda committed his face to memory. He was rugged and broad-shouldered, with a well-tailored silk suit and fedora cap set at a jaunty angle. He was obviously Gerudo, with auburn hair and deeply tanned skin, but the feature that struck Zelda the most were his eyes, deep and twinkling with a twisted sort of light. A smile curled his lips, but the sight of it unnerved her.

"That's not..." Kafei trailed off, jaw slack as he stared.

"That's him." Zelda finished grimly. "Presenting Ganondorf, CTPD's most wanted."

Ever since Zelda had joined the force his mug shot had sat on the top of the most wanted list. Crime, smuggling, murder, grand larceny, the list went on and on. A special task force had been dedicated to tracking his movements a few years back, but the man was like a ghost – every time the police thought they had found him he was gone. Without fail he vanished, leaving no trace.

And here he was, standing in front of Zelda.

"What do we do?" Link hissed, looking over Zelda's shoulder through the mail slot as Ganon continued his rounds.

"All right, get fired up, everybody! Let's ruin some more lives and make _money!_ Don't look so down, you two – we're, er, stimulating the economy. Yeah, I like that! Let's stimulate the economy, people! Jacin, you're looking great! I like that blistering stare you're giving me, it looks good on you. Pick up the pace, let's go! Kotake, Koume, my office."

"I like this guy." Link whispered and Zelda snorted.

"What with the murder and drug dealing, I can see why you like him." She retorted.

Kafei pointed through the mail slot. "Look, they're leaving. Maybe we can get in now."

"And do what?" Zelda shook her head. "We're stuck here until backup arrives."

"Oh, and you guys hiding behind the door? Yes, you? You can come to my office as well." Ganon's booming voice sounded again and Zelda leaped up, tugging Link and Kafei away from the door.

"Go, run!" She shouted, pivoting to run into one of the barrel-chested guards. Their meaty hands clamped on her arms and pulled her away from the door.

In seconds the guards had stripped Zelda of her radio and pistol, tossing the weapons over their shoulders. Kafei was handled in a similar manner, they they were dragged through the door and into the warehouse.

Once she was inside Zelda could truly appreciate the immensity of Ganon's operation. The warehouse was packed with desks piled high with intricate tools and stacks of rupees. One worker seemed eerily familiar and Zelda almost laughed when she saw the Bean Seller passed out on his table. A guard stormed over to him and roughly pulled him upright, growling and muttering.

"Again? That's the sixth time this week!" The guard barked, waking the Bean Seller with a start.

"I think we know who attacked you, Zelda. And that would explain the DNA." Kafei jutted his chin toward the guard and the Bean Seller.

Setting her jaw, Zelda tugged her arms in an attempt to free herself from the iron grip of the guard. "I can walk on my own, thanks." She seethed, but the guard's expression remained blank as they marched forward.

"Well, I wasn't expecting a playdate with the police, but I guess we can fit it into my schedule." Ganon tilted his head and smirked at Zelda, who scowled in return.

"And who else have you brought me? We'll address this in my office. Frankly, I'm impressed. Only my closest and most trusted workers know where our little factory is. Alert Koume we might have a worm in our midst." Ganon nodded to another guard, who marched away swiftly.

Swinging a door wide open, Ganon revealed a lavishly decorated office, complete with Bullbo-skin rugs and an impressive display of medieval weapons mounted on one wall. As Zelda watched he took a small throwing knife from the collecting and spun the blade between his fingers with expert skill. A seed of dread rooted in her stomach and she kicked at the guard restraining her, but her foot might as well have struck concrete. The guard didn't budge.

"Can I get you anything? Water, tea, lemonade?" Ganon watched Zelda and her company expectantly, then shook his head. "I suppose not. Well, let me begin by congratulating you on finding my base. You got me! Has the lady cop got any cuffs on her? You can take me away now."

Zelda was released and she stumbled forward, hand instinctively reaching for her pistol. Its absence felt alien and she longed to hold the weapon in her hands. "No cuffs, no." She fixed Ganon with a burning glare and he grinned.

"Feisty, I like that. Your name seems familiar... I think I sent someone after you a while ago. You must understand I send assassins after a lot of people. It's not personal." He gave her a one-shoulder shrug.

Ganon's nonchalance made Zelda bristle and suddenly the weapons on the wall seemed more visible than before. Instantly she started to calculate the seconds it would take for her to take one of the daggers, how long it would take for the guards to react...

She dismissed the idea quickly. Ganon and the guards would be too quick, and they were expecting the attack.

"Who's your other friend? Hmm... Kafei, is it? I've been doing some research on the precinct lately, what with the evolution of this case and all. I guess I should explain myself, shouldn't I?" Ganon reclined leisurely in his desk chair, feet propped on his desk.

"Your victim, Baito, was in a relationship with one of my runners, Luna. She was pretty good as a cop – I didn't even know she was with the police until one of my guards caught them on camera. It's funny how things like that happen. A lovely photo, by the way, and in the background you can see the two of them at a table exchanging information. You can buy the photo in the Shooting Gallery, if you wanted to know."

"We didn't." Kafei twisted, trying to free himself from the grasp of his guard.

"Rude, but I'll pardon you for now." Ganon placed his hands behind his head, the image of cool confidence. "First I disposed of the man – Baito, was it? Without him Luna couldn't get to the police, and I had hoped to scare her away from working with the cops. Only later do I find out she's been taken into custody at the precinct. It was easy to get one of my sleeper cells up and running. Consider all the loose ends all tied up. The cops are running in circles without any leads, getting them off my trail again. It's a win-win."

Zelda was rendered speechless with fury. Here was the leader of the Gerudo Cartel, _confessing_ to the murder of two individuals, and she was helpless to stop him.

"You did a very good job, you know. You should be proud of yourself."

"Hey, don't forget that she had help." Link's voice sounded from her left and Zelda bit her lips to keep from screaming at Link. _Now is not the time!_

"Let's drop the pretenses, shall we?" Ganon stood and walked over to Link, waving his hand. Following the gesture, the guard released Link, who stood before Ganon without a semblance of fear on his expression.

"Welcome back, Link."

The words stabbed into Zelda like daggers and she reeled away with shock. _Welcome back?_

"Link, what does he mean?" Kafei stammered, eyes as wide as saucers.

"You're a cop!" Zelda shouted. _This can't be real. Link can't be..._

"A _dirty_ cop." Ganon raised a finger. "There's a fine line between the two."

Anger and shame rushed over Zelda like a tide, her fists clenched and trembling with rage. Link, who had saved her. Link, who she had shared every fact of the case with. Link, who she had _trusted._

Link, who was a traitor.

Ganon clapped a hand on Link's shoulder and led him around to his desk. "Link is one of my most skilled operatives. And when I heard he had inside information with the cops on this case... You're rearing for an advancement in the ranks, son."

"You're too kind." Link joked, smiling easily. Zelda gritted her teeth, nails digging into her skin.

"Yes, Link was my inside to the police for the duration of this case. Unfortunately, it won't be your case much longer." Ganon cast Zelda a sympathetic glance. "Besides, you were doomed from the start. Let me put it plainly: you have no proof."

"I'd say this warehouse counts as proof enough!" Kafei snarled.

Ganon looked up and frowned deeply, as if Kafei's words posed a problem. "It would be, if the workers were in the police system. The shipping addresses would be a problem if they weren't routed through a complex network of codes that only my highest-ranking followers know. It would be a problem if the rupees weren't wired through seventeen dummy accounts, one of which being the CTPD itself. So you're right, officer. Arrest me."

His arrogance filled Zelda with rage and she stormed forward, slamming the palm of her hand down on Ganon's desk. "You're going to jail for this, you lousy son of a bitch, and I'll be the one who's smirking when I put you behind bars."

"I can see why you like her." Ganon nodded at Link. "What are you going to do, sweetheart? You haven't got a gun – here, catch." He tossed her pistol at Link. "You haven't got any proof. So come at me. Let's see what you've got."

Zelda' cheeks flushed with heat, but she knew that Ganon was right. They were grasping at straws already, and without any real proof the case was finished. The Gerudo Cartel had won.

With a click Ganon raised Kafei's gun and pointed it at her forehead, the barrel of the pistol staring her down. "Any last words? That's a good evil line, I'm keeping that. Copyright Gerudo Cartel, by the way."

He was going to humiliate her before she died. Zelda raised her head and stared into Ganon's eyes, the eyes of he man the CTPD had hunted for so long, and she smiled.

The gunshot never came.

In a flash another gun leaped upward, this one pointing at Ganon's temple. Zelda's pistol settled against Ganon's head, with Link's finger poised on the trigger.

"I would _not_ do that if I were you." He smiled, and Ganon scowled.

"Link, I would highly advise you to lower your gun now." The Gerudo froze, his grip on the gun rigid.

"Sure, boss, whatever you say." Link drawled. "Zelda, you remember my file? I worked deep-cover in the Gerudo Cartel. I'm guessing you didn't read that file yet." He nudged the barrel of the pistol into Ganon's forehead.

"You dirty little..." Ganon seethed, but Link pushed the gun against his temple.

"Still want to finish that sentence?"

"Hylia curse all of you!" Ganon spun in his chair and Link fired, two shots ringing in the small space of the office. Zelda and Kafei dropped to the ground to avoid any stray bullets, and the guards ran from the room in panic.

"Link!" Zelda jumped upright. "Are you hurt?"

"Fine." He replied, placing her gun on the desk. "You might want this back."

Zelda stood to see a thin trail of blood snaking down Ganon's temple. "His shot?"

Link crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "Missed."

"Quick, we need to get any proof of his crimes that we can!" Kafei tugged open a drawer in Ganon's desk and withdrew a laptop. When he opened it the screen flashed with strange symbols and numbers Zelda didn't recognize, but Link leaned forward and typed out a short sequence on the keys.

"Remember what he said about the code? Good thing I'm a high-ranking official."

The laptop unlocked with a chime and Link pulled up the wire transfers from Ganon's account, then groaned with frustration.

"Ganon covers his tracks well. I can't make heads or tails of it."

"Wait!" Kafei leaped forward, tapping frantically at the keyboard. "He said he transferred the money through the CTPD?"

"Yeah, so?" Zelda watched as Kafei's gaze tightened with concentration.

"Well, any badge-holding officer such as myself can track it." The computer pinged again and a scrolling list of accounts filled the screen, every monetary exchange recorded. "Gotcha."

There was a moment of relieved silence and Zelda's adrenaline slowly simmered down. The Gerudo Cartel was finished. Baito and Luna's murders were avenged. The case was closed. A giddy sense of relief washed over her, a sense of accomplishment.

"You know..." Zelda said suddenly, turning to Link and lowing her gaze. "I've been looking for a partner. You know, if you're interested."

"Well, you're just about the luckiest officer out there. Isn't everyone dying to have a partner who personally disposed of the leader of the Gerudo Cartel?"

"I know I am." Zelda smiled, and thus began the tale of the greatest crime-fighting duo Castle Town had ever seen.

 **This actually took me like** ** _three hours_** **to write. I just had to restart my Les Mis playlist, that's how long it took. So please, please tell me what you thought!**

 **The next chapter will be Hyrule Warriors (I know, get excited!) Any thoughts, levels, characters or bosses you want to see? Any chapters you hope you this one will be like? Let me know! I 3 your feedback.**

 **I guess that's all for now. Until next time!**


	30. Hyrule Warriors: The Light Brigade

**I know I just updated recently, but I just finished the Book Thief (which was soooo good!) and wanted to see if I could write something in the same style. Thus, Hyrule Warriors!**

 **A heads-up: This one's a little intense, so read with discretion :)**

 **Read on!**

* * *

The world was a battlefield.

Really, everything is a battlefield. Every living particle is locked in the struggle to survive, to pull themselves from the jaws of death.

But this particular field was a field of battle. Blades of grass crushed under the boots of soldiers, slick with blood. The stench of rot and pestilence clogged the air, choked out the oxygen. Every good and wholesome thing crumbled to dust in the face of war, like so many ashes trickling through your fingers. Gone.

 ***** THE KEYS TO WAR *****

 **Lots of soldiers**

 **Lots of blood**

 **And, as always, ineffably, the archetypal hero**

This hero in particular stood in the middle of the field, unmoving. Technically., I suppose he was moving, with labored breath and trembling hands, eyes darting across the field to see if anyone was charging to attack him. Swords or red-tipped claws had assuaged him for so long, with the mere intent to hunt and kill and destroy. His uniform, once proud and whole, hung from his frame in tatters.

 ***** A BRIEF SYNOPSIS OF A HERO *****

 **He was barely a man, with lemon-colored hair and an impish smile that had vanished after the first battle. Every scrap of his spirit was poured out on the battlefield, every emotion dumped from him like a pitcher. He was a hero but he hated the world, hated himself, hated himself for hating it.**

The sounds of battle had long since vanished from his mind like wisps of smoke. They were dull aches in his brain – the shatter of bone, a moan of pain, the guttural roar of challenge. The hero had been beaten and ground to a killing machine. No, not only beaten. Beaten, clawed, slashed, stabbed, trampled, scorched, and tortured to a mindless beast.

Well, not simply mindless. He never wanted to reach the standards of Ganon's underlings, plowing forward with dead, lifeless eyes.

It was a difficult battle to fight, not only against the swords and daggers of the battlefield, but the battle for humanity within himself. Equally damaging, equally bloody.

There was a pile of bodies that reached to his knees. His _knees._ Stacks and stacks of rancid, bloodless limbs that stretched as far as his sword could reach. His grip on the sword's hilt was damp with sweat and rivulets of blood, his own and that of his victims.

The blood, the sweat – the stench of it nearly made him gag. Bile crawled up his throat, stinging and vile. The battlefield heaved with it, gushing blood that washed over the hero's boots, staining his blue uniform a bruise-like purple. Every hill was a rib, the rise and fall of a monstrous chest as it heaved for breath.

 ***** WHAT THE HERO COULD SEE *****

 **The curtain of blood descending over the land, a shroud that strangled. The faces of the soldiers as they stabbed and slashed, tearing mortal wounds into anything that crossed their paths. He saw them melting from the blood, puddling at their ankles and soaking into the coppery earth.**

The blood was everywhere, even on his own uniform. Trickling from an incision in its front, two inches long and deep as a cavern.

Well, that was unfortunate.

Like tides, death rushes in. He who gives to death receives death in return, and the hero had given _so,_ so much.

He stumbled forward, knee jostling the shoulder of a fallen soldier. He didn't even know his name, face marred from the vicious swipe of a sword stroke.

 ***** A WORD ON THE SOLDIER *****

 **He had a wife and family at home, an adoring son with a gap-toothed smile who spent every moment he could outside swinging a little stick of a sword around while his mother watched, a warm smile on her face. Both would forever wait for their father, their husband to return. He had died with their names on his lips, the slash of steel severing ties with the mortal world, the bloodstained battlefield.**

Perhaps death isn't so cruel after all.

The hero thought the same as his lifeblood scattered across the grass of the battlefield, as his legs leadened and his sword tip brushed the rough ground. What had given him the right to kill the man? What had given him the right to kill all that he had killed? Was there some heavenly order ordaining good and evil, deigning grace and favor one one side of the war?

The problem with war is that one side is sure they're the good guys. They're sure they're the heroes. Ganondorf is a savior, some fallen angel sent from the goddesses to lead his people to victory.

And the hero?

 _Oh, hero_. The hero is damned, his name cursed and spat upon. The hero is rancorous, poisonous. He is a scourge to the earth, a puppet dangling on strings.

Strings, the hero realized as he brought a hand to his wound, that would soon be cut.

And the hero would collapse to the earth, hero no longer. Just another body in the pile to his _knees._

Questions came to the hero's mind as he watched the battle progress, felt the slow burn as his wound lanced pain through his body.

 ***** THREE QUESTIONS *****

 **Why me and not him?**

 **Why so soon?**

 **What have I done?**

I could offer no answers to the hero as I watched over the battlefield, the scent of coppery blood and despair fresh in my nostrils. Death favors no one, only offers release for good or ill. For the hero, perhaps that release was a welcome one. He was too young to be broken. Barely a man, not quite a child. Steel stabbed through his side, his youth like a faucet tumbling to the ground.

We both knew he couldn't go on.

As I neared the hero, stepping carefully over the souls of those already lost, I pardoned him. Not that I have any higher power to pardon, from a man to another. War is hardly justified by words, so much death for so much sorrow. A cycle like the tides, yes. The boy who had slain so much, and who was paying the price for it.

No, not paying, I thought as I stepped closer. The deadness of his limbs and the pulsing pain wasn't a debt to be paid.

"You have served well, my comrade." I whispered in his ear, a light breeze as frigid as ice. The glance over the shoulder, the deepest shadows where monsters hide. They don't understand the warmth of death, the sweet bliss as their strings are cut and they find their _wings._

Shackled to the earth no longer.

 ***** THE HERO WISHED FOR AND I DELIVERED *****

 **A world without blood and war, where he could find his impish smile again.**

 **A world of love, where he would be welcomed. The problem with heroes is that they're terribly lonely. No one wants to touch the sun, nor a god, and likewise a hero. Awed glances from a distance that fades to normalcy.**

 **Home. Oh, the hero longed for home. Deep down where the child within him still lingered the pull to return home nearly snapped his soul in two.**

 _Fear not. We're almost there._

As I gathered his soul in my arms the sword clattered to the ground beside him, no longer needed. All sounds ceased, the pain and darkness muted, the drip-dripping of blood silenced save the slice of a blade over strings.

 _Snip._

And it's finished.

* * *

 **We hit 80 reviews! Thank you (infinitely) so much! I know this one isn't really humorous, but whatever.**

 **Let's see, non-canon games... Hmm... Anyone else think the CD-i games deserve the spotlight? Yes, no, maybe so? I'll leave this one up to you :)**

 **I guess that's all for now. Until next time!**

 **P.S. Aren't I fancy with this horizontal line thing?**


	31. Skyrule: Tip Your Tour Guide

**An explanation of the title: So when I first saw the teaser for the new Zelda U game I thought to myself, "Well, that sure looks a lot like Skyrim!" (it is actually Skyrim though.) Naturally the next logical step: Skyrim + Hyrule... _Skyrule_. Someone give me a medal or something.**

 **And yes, I know we have a Jack London-esque title now, but Skyrule has really grown on me. Explanation over :)**

 **It's been a while since we updated, so enjoy and read on!**

Link's Guaranteed A-Number-One Foolproof Twelve-Step Guide to Making the Wilderness Your Bitch (Or your money back!)

Welcome traveler, landlubber, fill-in-the-circle-that-applies-to-you! Whether you come from the streets of Castle Town or the twisted woods of the Kokiri Forest, everyone needs a survival guide. And who, may I ask, is going to receive personal guidance from a ten-time Survival Showdown award winner, who can make a shelter out of two Dusk Relics and a twig? Who, wherever he steps, the grass is too terrified to grow back? You, my friend and budding survivalist! You're welcome.

Step One: Get to know your guide. The name's Link, thank you _not_ for asking, and I'm your ticket to getting out of these woods alive. Yes, you in the back, a question? Of _course_ people haven't died in here with me leading them! What a crazy question! Ha ha...

Anyways, I've been taking tours in these woods for years now and know every blade of grass and tree stump there is to see. Trust me, if there's anyone who's going to unlock your inner primal instincts to make you a savage beast of the wild, it'll be me. Now come on! Let's get a move on.

Step Two: Observe. The reason all of you are tripping over roots and bear traps – I mean, more roots – is because you're not watching where your feet are. Stop looking at the trees and the leaves. Appreciating nature won't get you anywhere in life. Nature is like a tool, a machine gun even. If you can harness it and twist it to your bidding nothing will ever get close to harming you. If you don't... Let's hope wolves don't know how to fire a machine gun.

By now you're hopelessly lost, which helps me because now you can't run away! It also instills a sense of cohesiveness in our tour group, because I am hopelessly lost as well. What do you mean, I said I knew every blade of grass in this forest? Oh, that? No, that's a line the company makes me say every tour. Says it makes the tour group feel like they're not walking into the jaws of... Er, nevermind.

Step Three: Stop observing. No, really. Close your eyes and listen to the sounds of nature. Do you hear the crickets gently chirping in the trees? Well, nature fact, those crickets are looking for a mate. Let me tell you one thing – in a few months there are going to be a _lot_ more crickets around here. The faint rustling of the leaves is a delightful touch to the symphony of the wild. And the rustling crescendos... Nope, that's a bear. Run for it!

Step Four: Learn how to run! I've never seen a slower group in my life, pick up the pace! Pick up that bear trap while you're at it, I don't see how you'll sprint with that thing still stuck to the ground. Bears can climb trees, too, so I don't know what half of the tour group is doing up in the branches. Have fun up there, and don't forget to tip your tour guide!

Step Five: Learn your terminology. This, my friends (come on, we're all friends here, right?) is a river. Also known as a white-water death trap with sharp rocks lurking, waiting to skewer you into minced pie, or our only way to escape from the sudden onslaught of hungry bears. Go, go, go! You have to cross!

Now watch as the helpless tourists are swept down the river in one spot. That, my friends, is called a current. Now watch me turn away as their helpless pleas fall on deaf ears. That is called ignoring someone, and you do it a lot in my kind of work.

I never get tourists. 'Gee, I do love _sweating!'_ 'Look at this terrified look on my face, isn't it awesome?' 'I got my leg trapped in a bear trap _again_ and had to saw off the limb with a pocketknife!' You guys are really cramping my style. Or my vibes. Or both.

Step Six: When confronted with a dangerous situation, don't panic. Panicking involves screaming, crying, blubbering, sweating profusely, trembling, shaking, dying hideous and painful deaths, praying to the goddesses for release, or any variation of the aforementioned signs. You see my cool, collected demeanor? My psychological evaluator called it insanity, but it's not like she has a degree or anything! We all know it's because I don't panic and stay calm in every situation. You're sinking in quicksand? Don't worry about it! I saw a movie like this once. Just stay relaxed and indifferent to the obvious pain and slaughter about you, and life will be much easier.

Step Seven: Never undervalue food. Trust me on this – except for you in the back, you look a little _too_ well-fed. Have you been ruthlessly battered by a demonic spider-like creature, beaten within an inch of your life? Let me shoot you a deer. Don't worry that the meat's raw! I hear raw chicken is even better, you should try it sometime.

Step Eight: If you see a giant shadow sweep over you, disguised by a patch of trees, run! For example, look at this large shadow spreading over our noticeably smaller group, as if it's some hideous monster preparing to pounce. Well, news flash, it _is_ a hideous monster preparing to pounce, so you might want to get those sneakers of yours pumping. Except for you in the back, if he gets a taste of you he might leave us along. It was just a joke, man! Rough crowd today. A small crowd, too... I wonder where everyone went...

Step Nine: While you're running away in terror, as many of you are currently embodying right now, be sure to run in a zigzag pattern to confuse the predator after you. That way they'll be more confused... Or they'll just take it as an opportunity to eat more tourists. _OKAY, RUN FOR IT!_

Step Ten: _Why are you staring at me like idiots? Run for your lives! Go! Go!_ You'll see that the creature chasing behind us is an unidentified sea monster who appears to have surfaced from the river back there. If you'll direct your attention to the moss hanging from his ten-foot long claws you'll see an interesting herringbone pattern, a rare breed of river moss that only grows here. Isn't that interesting? I don't care if you just got gored by a claw, I would _appreciate_ an insightful nod or light applause. Or, you know, a tip... Not that I'm insinuating anything, of course.

Step Eleven: Use nature to help you survive. This is an expert survivalist tip from arguably (or not arguably, because I'm obviously the best) the number-one survival guide in the realm. For example, look up at the sun. But not for too long, because that will blind you. Oops... Back to the tip. Use the sun's direction to guide you north. I don't know why north is so important, but survival trainers seem to like it a lot. And compasses. Those things attract to north like flies to the corpse of a tourist. Or a bear to a tourist. Or a tourist to a bear. Also, you can use vines to trip your friends so they get eaten instead of you! Isn't nature fun, kids?

Step Twelve: Look at that! We're out of the woods already, no pun intended. Well, that was an adventure, wasn't it? We got to see a large variety of wildlife, flora and fauna, and even had a dash of adventure and peril! Use these twelve survivalist tips and you'll be a professional survivalist in no time. Thanks for coming and don't forget...

That's a first. I guess everyone just had to use the bathroom or something. Hello? Tour group? Can you hear me?

Isn't that just _perfect._ Don't forget to tip your tour guide...

 **Any ideas for the next chapter? A game/non-canon thing/episode of the failed TV show to feature? Drop in a review and and hit me up with your amazing ideas. Now that we're done with the canon games I'll need _something_ to make fun of.**

 **If you liked this chapter a review would be great, tell your friends, e-mail former U.S. President George W. Bush. Whatever you want :)**

 **Thank you so so much for reading! Hope I made you smile, laugh, or made your day a little brighter!**

 **Until next time!**


	32. The Perks of Captivity

**Hello all! Welcome back to TTC, where humor and hilarity abounds. Of course, I'm biased, so maybe it's more like humor and short snorts of quiet laughter. I dunno, man...**

 **Not much else to say here. Read on!**

As the resident Hero of Time in this conference, I believe I'm the leading expert on captivity. What is captivity, you ask? Well, you know, kidnapping. Hostage situations, torture, waterboarding, the whole shebang. Trust me, it's really not as bad as it sounds.

Don't give me that look! I know what you're thinking – this man is absolutely insane. And you'd be right! But that's not the point. Let me start the speech before the workers from the asylum catch me here, okay?

So, your standard kidnapping situation, right? You're tied to a chair with your arms and legs bound. Hey, it's better than standing up! At least they didn't truss you like a turkey and toss you into a lake! Technically that's happened to me once. Okay, twice. Maybe five times. But that's not the point!

One thing that helps when you're taken hostage is having a positive attitude! Even though you're inches from death with violence-fueled captors holding rusty kitchen knives to your neck – I mean, have you even _heard_ of tetanus? – staying calm and confident is the way to be.

Your wrists are tied by thick ropes, right? I have a solution for you – friendship bracelets! Think of your kidnappers as your bestest friends in the world who want to take care of you and love you! What's that? No, I do not mean Stockholm Syndrome. I mean _positivity!_ Seriously, people, it's good for the karma. Or the vibes. Pick your metaphysical feel-good attitude.

If you're in the business world think of the ropes as large, woolen, too-small cufflinks. Get it, cuff- _Links?_ Well, I thought it was funny... The fear and pain from being tied to a chair will dissipate instantly.

Occasionally, if your kidnappers are really covering their bases, you might be gagged. Fear nasty morning breath no longer! Tired of the taste of last night's drink – I mean, meal? Your captors have so kindly provided a chloroform-and-blood-stained rag for your pleasure! Wasn't that so thoughtful of them? If you're talkative by nature, this exercise of silence (or muffled screaming in terror) is good for your zen. Or your karma. You know what? Let's drop it with the witchy-drama stuff.

Maybe you've been beaten, shot, or bruised from your ride in your captors' trunk. Think on the bright side of the glass! Wait, that's not right. The bright side is half... Er, the glass is the side... Forget it. Your bloody wounds will be a great topic of conversation with your friends, assuming you escape from this situation alive. Can you imagine the pickup lines? Ah, the drama a gunshot wound brings. Trust me on this one, if you feel safe trusting me with anything at all.

But enough about you. On to your captors! At least they're not wrinkled grandmas with scrapbooks for their favorite cats or something. Bo-ring! Think of what could possibly be worse. Go ahead, I'll wait. Now that I think about it... Well... Maybe we need a new positivity strategy here. Um... Don't look at me like that, this zen stuff doesn't grow on grass. I mean, trees.

Your captors are human people who have no qualms with mauling you into a pulp to get what they want. With this in mind, anticipate their torturous activities with a stirring of excitement in your stomach! Just push aside the gut-wrenching terror a little bit to make room. Remember, always remain calm and smiling. If luck is favoring you your kidnappers may think you're insane and let you go (or they might kill you faster, but we're looking on the bright half-full, right?)

Here's my favorite methods of torture and how you can convert them to pleasurable activities. Waterboarding? How fitting, I was really thirsty! Who needs fingernails anyways? By the way, trash cans are on the side of the auditorium if you need to throw away your waste. Or throw up. Really, a handbag? There are better receptacles for projectile vomiting.

Lastly, kidnappers are probably keeping you for ransom or something like that. I happen to be kidnapped on a daily basis, probably because I have a Giant's Wallet full of rupees that I hang on my belt visibly. The way I see it, why keep money in a safe when you can carry it around with you, practically begging for robbers and muggers to come your way? It's not like safes are _safe_ or anything, right? Hasn't anyone here seen _one_ action movie? A single stick of dynamite and that thing is done for.

I see now that almost all of my audience has fled with clear looks of terror on their face or have left and returned with rotten tomatoes to throw at me. Remember your positivity exercises – look, free food! And it's being thrown right at me! That one got me in the face, perfect aim! Using these tools, I guarantee that not only your situation as a hostage but your entire life will change forever.

Speaking of change, I think it's time the next speaker came up. Sound like a real thriller: _Increased Bottle Production: For Good Or Ill?_ Who knew that the world hinged on bottles, right?

And there's the doctors from the mental institution! I was wondering where you guys were, you missed my speech! Oh, a straight-jacket? It's so cozy, you shouldn't have! It's not even my birthday or anything, how thoughtful. See, everyone? Using my positivity practices your outlook on life will change for the better!

If you want to receive a free instructional CD or my published book about the role of kidnappings in society, you can find me in the asylum on the edge of town. You'll recognize it by the barbed wire around the fence and the guards with machine guns. It's got some totally rad feng shui! Business inquiries only, please! I look forward to your calls!

 **Apparently positivity is a word, but neither FF nor OpenOffice agrees with the dictionary. For a moment I thought I had coined a new phrase or something. Ah, to dream.**

 **Feedback and criticism is appreciated as always!**

 **A huge thank-you for reading. Really, you rock. Maybe you even roll. Who knows, right? *canned laughter because that joke was so much trash***

 **I guess that's all for now! Thank you and goodnight! (Until next time!)**


	33. Leviathon

**Heyo and welcome back!**

 **I guess I should give some sort of backing for this story (although it really won't matter until the very end.) Consider it an AU-ish Twilight Princess.**

 **This being said, enjoy and read on!**

Legends speak of a beast so powerful, so horrifying that even the bravest warriors are speechless with awe when confronted with it. Which doesn't really make any sense, because if the legends can speak of it, why can't the heroes? Can legends actually speak?

Forgive me. I digress.

The first indicator that you are not alone in your ambiguous, hypothetical quest are the foot-beats against the ground. They begin quietly, surreptitiously, to avoid being heard. Which didn't work out too well, seeing as, and I quote, 'the first indicator that you are not alone' is their footsteps. Which you _hear._ With your ears.

Anyways, back to the point. You freeze in your tracks, blood running cold (although blood doesn't really run, does it? Doesn't it flow or pump or something?) The methodical pulse could be mistaken for a breath of thunder or the intro to that really sweet new single from the Indigo-Go's, but it's not. Because that would be weird. Maybe the ancient beast has good taste in music.

Sorry, back on track. The footsteps become more audible as the monster approaches, pointed maw raised to the air. It tastes the sweat licking your palms, the fear palpitating around you in a macabre duet to the approaching beast's pounding. What weapons you have brought to defend yourself – say, for example, the Master Sword or the Mirror Shield (a narcissistic weapon if I ever heard of one. Really? A shield made of _mirrors?_ Did the age-old Hero just admire himself all day?) Back to what I was saying – your weapons are suddenly feeble against the sheer mass, the utter strength of the foe you are about to face.

You know, deep in the recesses of your mind, that only one of you is going to come out alive.

And you aren't the one who's been undefeated for the last millennium.

A white flash is visible over the nearest mountain range, vanishing as soon as you catch sight of it. The last reminder that it's too late to flee. Once the beast has your scent you might as well kebab yourself with your own sword and shout, 'Eat me!' Maybe you'd die from the sword wound before the beast plucked your spine out of your body like a toothpick.

The Hylian spine would make a pretty lousy toothpick, don't you think? Not at all pointy or useful. Besides, what teeth does –

 _Focus._ Right. I am focusing. This is me, focusing.

You recall all of the information about the monster that you can as it slowly draws closer, the noose tightening around you and the throes of death stalking in the shadows, binding your boots to the ground like that extra-adhesive glue I saw on the news yesterday where some dumb kid glued his fingers together and had to get them chopped apart with a sword. Kids these days, right?

This focusing stuff is hard work... Back to the legend.

Claws as long as javelins, sharpened with the swords of the beast's victims. So sharp they can slice a hair on its end, shear a piece of paper in two. Feet like dragon's, scaly and ribbed with scars from the brave (and probably idiotic, suicidal or mentally not-all-there) so-called heroes who attempted to kill it before you have. Some didn't even get that far, plucked from the ground like playthings and snapped cleanly in two. Because if those claws can slice a hair in half they sure as h-e-double-Master-swords can cleave you into fun-sized portions.

Heavily muscled legs sheath into segmented armor rumored to be impregnable. The layers overlay each other, leaving no gaps for you to sneak your little toothpick into. The armor is mottled with the dust of the earth from centuries of roaming, the rusted blood from foes of old, and grass. No, it's true. The last words of Holga the Horrible, famed washerwoman and fearsome warrior, were 'My Hylia, look at those grass stains! You know those don't come out!'

Then she was disemboweled and the monster knit a scarf with her intestines. At least, that's what HyliaPedia said.

As the beast crashes around the corner, wide girth scraping against the sides of the valley you stand in, you force your cowardly eyes to meet its own staring ones while simultaneously trying not to wet your pants with fear. The beast glowers back with eyes as dark as midnight, as cold and unforgiving as the embrace of death. You yourself embrace death as you watch the monster prowl, head snaking lower to get a good look at you, the measly prey. Even with all of your armor and extraneous weapons, you wouldn't be a mouthful for this monstrosity, this creature of nightmare.

Its rancorous breath spreads over you, a mixture of half-digested heroes and worms. Rumor has it that the monster's breath alone can kill, and you believe it, eyes watering when confronted with the goddesses-awful stench. Whatever scrap of courage you once possessed is thrown away, the goddesses laughing at you from above.

I wonder what the goddesses were thinking when they created this abomination. _Oh, here, let's send this hell-beast to go play with the mortals! It'll be fun! Just for laughs, they won't be able to kill it! Aren't they cute, Hylia?_

Some part of your brain that is still functioning and not rendered useless by the utter terror of the embodiment of death standing before you draws your sword. The blade is like a mote of dust next to the creature, and its head leans back almost to laugh. Wings spread wide, revealing a dappled canvas of gore and earthen stains. In one lithe, muscular motion the beast rears back its head and unhinges its jaws to release a screech of pure I-don't-even-know-what-but-oh-my-Hylia-it's-terrifying into the air.

The cry of challenge announces your eulogy in one warbling, screaming note that almost drives you to your knees. The voice echoes in your ears, alien yet all too human: _Resistance is futile. You will be killed. You are a coward, you are nothing, you are worthless._

Hands trembling, you raise your blade to face the beast.

"Bring it on," you shout at the Cucco. The last words you will ever speak.

 _P.S. Professor Shad, I hope this is okay. I just wanted to let you know that_ _I hate your class! Creative writing is the worst – I mean, seriously? Write about one of Hyrule's greatest foes and you give me a_ Cucco? _I am thoroughly enjoying studying literature with you and am excited to learn more in the future._

 _Yours_ _un_ _thankfully,_

 _Talo_

 **I experiment with strikethroughs. Of course 'strikethroughs' is a word! HyliaPedia said it was!**

 ***pauses bad jokes* Can I just thank you sincerely for your reads, reviews, favorites, follows, etc.? You guys make writing genuinely enjoyable, so thank you x100. Multiplied by 100 because that's how many reviews we're about to hit!**

 ***dies, but is resurrected because who will write TTC if I'm gone?***

 **I guess that's all for now. Hope I made at least one of you laugh. Smile? Snort a little air out of your nose? I can dream.**

 **Until next time!**


	34. Origin Stor(i)es

**Fear not, I haven't forgotten TTC. Welcome back!**

 **All right, new chapter. Consider this a pre-OoT (or something like that?)**

 **Read on, and may the pots be with you.**

Some time ago, in the unforgiving ocean of sand known as the Gerudo Desert, sat a small village half-buried by the rolling dunes. It was in this lonely town that young man lived. This was no ordinary young man, no, for he was the lone man in a village of women.

Now, for any other ordinary young man this would be the answer to every one of his hopes and dreams, but this young man felt differently. He longed to see a world beyond his virile obligations and the endless dunes of sand. The young Gerudo wanted simply to escape from the burden of his society and to live his own life, following his passion.

That passion was pottery. Yes, pottery, a skill that brought the young man brief release from his figurative imprisonment. He loved the feeling of the clay under his fingers, the only thing that would bend under his will. His fellow Gerudo were stubborn.

So at a tender age the young man packed up his potter's wheel and a small sum of rupees, wished his race well, and set off to start his business in Castle Town. Thus, 'Ganon's Gerudo Goods' was born in the heart of one of the busiest shopping centers of Hyrule.

The young Gerudo was quite the entrepreneur, and he found that his savings were accumulating quickly. Customers were very fond of his work, which was top-quality and well-made with clay mined in the Gerudo desert by slaves – er, workers. Ganon was especially proud of his line of designer pots, each marketed at five hundred rupees (manager's suggested retail price, of course.) In no time all of the wealthy and famous of Castle Town sported the young Gerudo's products, be it glazed jewelry beads or massive sculptures.

Ganon was rather proud of his work, along with his new public image. 'Ganondorf' was a household name, and everywhere he looked his work decorated ladies' fingers and the doorsteps of mansions. Gentlemen tipped their hats at him when he passed, and most simply gawked when he walked down the streets. What was once a simple pottery business had grown into a pottery _monopoly_ , and demand was only growing.

Feeling that he finally had something to brag about, the young Gerudo wrote back to his home village about his exploits in business, even offering to give them shares in his company if they begged nicely enough. The letter back was engraved on a stone tablet and brought grave tidings from the Gerudo village – a sandstorm had wiped out almost all of the town, leaving its surviving inhabitants dirt-poor and living in squatter. They had no money to buy paper, so they had to mail back their reply on a piece of slate.

This letter invoked deep thoughts in the Gerudo, thoughts that had never troubled him before. How would he feel if he was too poor to afford a single leaf of paper? How could his village be destroyed in one fell blow? He observed his surroundings, the glass of fine Hylian wine in one hand and a fat wallet of rupees in the other.

"Well, I'm glad I'm not them!" Ganon declared with a chuckle, and tossed the tablet into the trash. The Gerudo never wrote again.

'Ganon's Gerudo Goods' was flourishing more and more every day. Customers flocked from the far reaches of Termina and the Dark World to observe his products, which were rumored to decorate the parlors of the Golden Goddesses themselves. It seemed that nothing could go wrong for Ganon – every venture he went into succeeded, and he was going to become a millionaire on pottery alone.

Then came the fateful day when the Kokiri appeared.

He was just painting a stripe of white glaze on a baby-blue pot, one from his Housewarming Collection, when the Kokiri approached. Ganon didn't know much about Kokiri except that they never aged and had fairies zipping around their heads, yammering on and on about listening skills or somthing of the sort. The boy was very short, his head barely clearing the top of Ganon's desk, and he gaped with awe at the shelves behind the Gerudo. Pottery of every shape and size lined the shelves, from delicate Jabu-Jabu charms to sweeping columns.

"Can I help you?" Ganon asked kindly, wondering if the kid had hit himself over the head too many times, what with the blank, staring eyes and slack-jawed expression. The Kokiri boy reached up and grasped a small pot in his meaty fist.

"Yes, that's from my Temperate Amour Collection." Ganon supplied, watching the boy's eyes light up with wonder. "It can be used to hold potions, water, even fairies." The fairy darting around the boy's head buzzed at him angrily and Ganon smirked.

In one gut-clenching moment the boy raised the pot above his head and hurled it to the ground with way too much force for a seven-year-old to be able to muster, shattering it.

Ganon's heart dropped and he tried to laugh it off. "Don't worry about it kid, I won't make you pay for it. We're all a little clumsy sometimes, right?" He watched with a flicker of irritation as the boy picked up the single rupee that had fallen out of the pot and pocketed it in one motion.

"Give to Ganon what is Ganon's, kid." the Gerudo held out a hand, but the boy simply picked up another pot, this one much larger than the first. Suspending the jar over his head with quivering arms, the boy bent his knees and launched the pot into the air.

The pot rotated in slow-motion as Ganon leaped from his seat and vaulted over the desk in a desperate attempt to save his treasured art. Rays of sunlight flickered across the thin glaze decorating the pot's surface, until the pot collided with the cruel, hard ground in a shattering crash that surely could have leveled a small town.

"What are you _doing?"_ Ganon roared as the Kokiri boy pocketed another green rupee, greedy little face contorted in a menacing sneer. Unsheathing a stumpy little sword, the boy ran down the length of Ganon's display and stabbed his blade into each pot, jar, and vase, leaving nothing unscathed.

The Gerudo's life's work was collapsing before him – literally shattering as the insatiably selfish Kokiri filled his arms with rupees. A small crowd had gathered around the scene, their whispers barely audible above the smash of shattering pottery. Ganon fell to his knees as the boy jabbed his little sword into a prized vase made of pure silver, picking a red rupee out of the ruined metal mess that remained.

He was too shocked to respond, body numb as the boy ruined countless works of art. The Kokiri's green tunic was coated with the dust of crushed pottery, eyes glinting with a greedy, evil light. Ganon could only watch as the boy punched his fist through an ornate jar that would have sold for at least three hundred rupees, stuffing his wallet with stolen rupees and the fractals of Ganon's remaining dreams.

He was ruined – by a seven-year-old Kokiri boy!

The remaining scrap of sanity told the Gerudo that he couldn't snatch the kid and make him taste his own socks because his business would be exiled. The boy's piggish face was just begging to be punched, and Ganon felt his arms trembling with restraint as the Kokiri finished off the last of the pots in the sale section.

His job finished, the Kokiri boy stepped outside. Ganon's eyes fell on his wallet, swollen with the Gerudo's hard-earned money, passing out of view as the Kokiri sauntered past him and strolled down the street, just as you please. Ganon even heard his whistling a jaunty tune as he passed.

'Ganon's Gerudo Goods' was ruined. The only thing the boy hadn't marred was the sign. Everything was crushed, scarred, and utterly worthless. A few kindhearted citizens patted Ganon on the shoulder as they passed, offering their sympathy. One advised him to invest in superglue.

That next day Ganon packed up his pottery wheel and headed back to the small Gerudo village, who welcomed him home with open arms. In only days he had risen to the rank of leader of the Gerudo, and his influence was starting to grow. Ganon's passions turned swiftly from pottery to domination.

He was going to make sure no one would ever render him powerless ever again.

Especially not insolent, green-clad Kokiri.

 **I guess I'm just riffing Zelda jokes now, what with the pots and stuff :)**

 **(I was a Pokemon Go gym leader for like four hours I'm so proud)**

 **There's no more needless stuff to put down here, so I guess I'll wrap this up for now. Reviews are always welcome, and I'd love to hear you ideas for future chapters! There's a real possibility (a** ** _real_** **possibility) I'll use it, since inspiration is in short supply now.**

 **Thnks as always for reading! Go Team TTC, until next time!**


	35. In The Beginning

**Welcome back, avid TTC fans (I suppose)!**

 **A notice before this chapter: As it turns out, creating the entire known world is pretty hard, and so is populating it. With this, I give you... TTC! *applause***

 **Read on!**

"When you said drinks with the neighbors, I didn't think you meant _this."_ Din scowled, features twisted in obvious distaste. Nayru, ever the mediator, placed a hand on her sister's arm and gave their guest a gracious smile.

"Don't mind her, I'm afraid Din here doesn't have much of a filter..." She glared daggers at the red-haired goddess, a look that clearly said _when this is over they won't be able to find your remains._ Rolling her eyes, Din forced an awkward smile on her face.

"Your hospitality is welcome, dear goddesses." Demise gave each a small bow. When he was turned to Farore Din mimed vomiting, making the green-haired goddess stifle a giggle. "May I come in?"

Nayru led Demise into the parlor, where a tray of wineglasses sat on an ornate glass table. The goddesses trailed in behind the embodiment of evil in their time, exchanging nervous glances as Nayru pulled out a chair for the Demon King.

"A toast to good fortune?" Demise raised a wineglass, the thin flute dwarfed by this sausage-like fingers. It was a wonder the glass didn't shatter altogether, and Din hoped that the ham-fisted monster would squeeze a little more just to spice things up.

The three goddesses lifted their own glasses. "To the fate of Hyrule." Demise said, somewhat ambiguously, and drank. Farore swirled the wine in her glass, not willing to take a sip of the crimson liquid. Poison wouldn't be below Demise, although she would probably need a glass or two of fine wine to get through the night.

"So, why have you called me here, goddesses? How kind of you to release me from my humble prison – I mean, abode."

"Ooh, burn." Din muttered. "And I know about burns, right?" She flashed Farore a wink and the latter concealed her laughter as a hasty cough.

"When we construct the world, we will need to populate it. The three of us have already come up with major races –" Nayru began, her patience under severe strain from the antics of her sisters.

"I made the Deku!" Farore interjected, too excited to keep quiet. "They're adorable little forest creatures who can fly!"

"And I the Gorons. Copyright Din, all rights reserved. If you try to steal them I'll flay you alive and bathe your corpse in salt." Din beamed, the smile not quite reaching her murderous stare.

Demise tipped his head in her direction, restraining the urge to cast an energy ball into the insolent goddess' skull. _Golden goddess my ass..._ "Charming."

"My race is the Zora." Nayru spoke, angling her head towards Demise. Her figure was ramrod-straight, always poised and refined. "They're exemplified in their musicality, skill and wisdom."

Leaning back in the plush armchair, Demise raised the wineglass to his lips. "I assume this has something to do with me?"

"But of course!" A gracious smile spread across Nayru's lips. Somewhat strained, Demise noted. "We've created the major races, now we need to create the minor ones. Din, if you please?"

The fiery goddess stood and retreated into a back room for a moment, returning with an enormous box in her hands. Staggering under the weight of the load, she deposited the box onto the table with enough force to make the glass quiver, dusting off her hands with satisfaction. Tilting his head to read the label, Demise noticed an object that looked eerily like a horn poking from a tear in the cardboard.

"'Miscellaneous Parts'. What exactly do you want me to do?" The Demon King reached forward and pulled out a jar full of slime, its pungent odor spreading across the room too rapidly to be natural. Wrinkling her nose, Nayru took the jar from him and vanished it with a wave of her hand.

"We'll be constructing the minor races, of course. Did I not make myself clear?" Which, in Nayru translation, meant: _Have you got anything besides air between your ears, idiot?_

"Check it out!" Jumping forward, Din dug her hands into the box up to her elbows. The box released a multitude of sounds cardboard boxes should decidedly not make – grunts, squeals, and once an earth-shattering roar that set Demise's hair on end. Once she was satisfied Din pulled out a turtle shell and a bundle of what appeared to be sticks. Demise looked closer and realized with a shudder that they were actually the legs of a beetle.

"And, voila!" With a flourish and a puff of red smoke an enormous beetle scrabbled its little legs in the air, Din holding its shell above her head. "What do you think?"

"Tasteful." Demise commented, forcing a wan smile on his face. _This one really is insane..._

"How about we call it... Spiny Beetle?" Nayru suggested, and Din groaned.

"Why do you have to be so literal, Nayru? What were you thinking, Farore?"

The green-haired goddess' face morphed into a mask of concentration. "Hmm... How about _Hoarder?"_

"I like the way you think." Din nodded in agreement and tossed the beetle over her shoulder – if Demise's ears weren't deceiving him he thought he heard a small wail as it catapulted through the air – and it vanished in another whirl of red smoke. "And sent to the overworld!"

Farore leaped forward next, tugging out a simple floor tile. Furrowing her brow, her hands were enveloped in what appeared to be green clouds, then the magic vanished in an instant. The floor tile remained exactly the same.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Din drawled, voicing the thoughts of Demise perfectly.

"Yes, _sister dear."_ Farore pointed to Din and glanced down at the tile knowingly. "Get her."

In an instant the tile started to levitate, spinning in a slow circle before it stopped and turned to Din. With a swooping motion the tile threw itself in the red goddess' direction, and if she hadn't ducked it would have easily taken her head off. A magnificent crash echoed when the tile smashed into the wall, falling into a thousand useless pieces.

Picking herself up from the floor, Din gave Farore a half-crazed grin. "I like it!"

Nayru approached the box next, taking out a fake plant (presumably an old housewarming gift) and some brown felt. Tendrils of blue snaked down her arms and knit the felt together in the form of the strangest creature Demise had ever seen. It had flat features save a small, beak-like nose, and the bud of a plant sprouted from its back. The creature blinked twice, then caught sight of Demise and released a squeal, falling forward on its face. The bud sprang into bloom, making a creative, albeit horrible, disguise.

Waving her hand, Nayru vanished her creature. "Off to the overworld as well." She smiled at Demise and gestured to the box.

"Why don't you have a go?" She asked, and Demise shook his head.

"I would be honored to create – er, creatures," _If you could even call those monstrosities such a thing,_ "But I'll let you handle this."

"Oh, come on!" Din pleaded, a devilish light in her eyes. "You'll need evil minions when you eventually rise to power, and do you really want one of those flower puffs as your right-hand man?"

"The insane psychopath goddess has a point. You couldn't create evil minions to save your life!" Demise stood, approaching the box with something close to earnest.

Farore pouted, sulking back in her chair. "I thought the tile was a good idea..."

"Ladies, Demise is about to show you how to make a masterpiece." Plunging his hands into the box, Demise drew out a box of Jell-O and a honeycomb. Dark magic covered the two items as Demise fused them together, instilling a voracious hunger within the creature, especially for useful items. When the smoke cleared a gelatinous, pulsing creature remained, oozing slime on Nayru's spotless table.

Din didn't try to mask her disgust as the creature's head, or what she assumed to be a head, waggled and titled from side to side. "What in Hylia's great name is that?"

A boom of thunder shook the house to its foundations and Din winced. "Sorry, Hylia!"

The thunder grumbled, as if it weren't entirely satisfied, then dissipated.

With a devious smile Demise gestured to Din. "Would you like to give a demonstration, my lady?"

Muttering something incomprehensible, Din stepped forward to the pulsating, bulbous monster. "What do I do?"

"Go on, stick your hand in it."

Din's thick bangles clattered against each other as she reached her hand into the small crevice at the top of the oozing beast, wincing and making all variety of faces as her arm was sucked into the monster's insides. With a pop it released her, arm coated in dripping slime and notably bangle-free.

"I know they call you the King of Thieves, mister, but that's just low." Din growled, trying to wipe the slime from her skin.

"My creature will envelope and steal items from anything it comes across!" Demise spread his arms like he was giving a sales pitch. "You name it, my creature will rob you blind."

Farore perked up, looking interested. "Ooh! Rupees?"

"Of course."

"Force Gems?" Nayru asked.

"Spoilers!" Demise winked in response. The creature gave a low gurgle of approval.

"Shields?" Din crossed her arms, trying her hardest not to look impressed.

"But of course. And bracelets." Demise smiled and Din discreetly flipped him off when the other goddesses weren't looking.

"Demise, what are you going to call it?" Farore observed the creature on the table with an odd mix of disgust and curiosity.

"Good question – I'll probably have some teenage girl name it for me. We'll see what she comes up with."

The green-haired goddess leaped to her feet, snatching an acorn and what looked to be a tongue from the top of the box's contents. "Well, the overworld isn't going to populate itself. Let's get cracking!"

 **And then... Like-Likes!**

 **So, yes, author's note...** **I also wrote a seven-page action-esque thing for TTC and I was going to post it but probably won't because I'm not entirely satisfied with it... Any thoughts? Speaking of thoughts, I'd love to hear what you think so far of TTC!**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Until next time!**


	36. People Never Think About the Princess

**Long time no see, huh? (At least I think it is. I have no idea.)**

 **Welcome back. Friends, readers, countrymen, more readers, etc. Do what you do best and read on!**

 **(We come to bury Zelda, not to praise her.)**

People never think about the princess, do they?

Oh, sure, the Hero! Isn't he great? The whole package – ugly haircut, dinky green tunic (like, seriously? Do you even know fashion exists?) and, you guessed it, very manly leggings. Those tightie-whities just ooze testosterone.

So while the big and mighty Hero blunders around, sticking his sword into anything he can get his hands on – whatever the goddesses have tried to rebrand their _one_ sword as, that is, they're quite fickle – everyone gawks and practically throws their rupees at his feet.

Or their pots, because they apparently have no problem with him busting into their place of residence and beating up their furniture. I bet he's going straight to the milk bar with that hard-earned cash.

Yeah, forgive me if I'm not drooling over him.

Meanwhile, the decidedly _not_ tunic-clad other bearer of the Trifore does what, exactly? Oh, that's right. Sit in a dungeon for interminable lengths of time. Don't try to make the excuse that you were caught up fishing, "Hero". Next time you're off chasing stag beetles you might want to think about the girl who's stuck up in a tower. And don't even get me _started_ on side quests.

Like I said, people never think about the princess. Really, I could do the job of the Hero better than he could himself. Swordsmanship? Please, I've had to fend off clingy suitors since birth. I could whip Ganon into shape and have stolen his wallet before he could say 'Your Majesty.' Hell yeah I'm majestic. Heroism? Your idea of heroism comes from the man who runs around in circles when confronted with a boss, because he had no earthly idea what he's doing. Hello, Triforce of Wisdom over here? I've got the brawn and the brains to take out legions of Ganon's underlings, and all with a smile on my face. _In heels._

But everyone's too busy ogling His Hunkiness to give me a second glance. Princesses, meh. But _oh my goddesses did you see that huge freaking dragon the Hero just killed?_ You think running a kingdom is easy? Let's put the Hero in a corset and ball gown and see how he feels after five hours of dancing.

I've become an expert on captivity in my time. Along with being the Princess of Hyrule, I'm the Queen of wasting time, twiddling my thumbs while the Hero goes fishing (and is _not,_ may I add, saving the realm like he should.) Actually, twiddling my thumbs is pretty high on the "Things To Do When You're Bored" List. Trust me, when the Hero is trying to catch the prized bass in some run-of-the-mill town, you have enough time to make a list. By the time he's actually gotten a bite you could have a thousand lists engraved on the stone wall.

I am the Duchess of Boredom, the Viscountess of the drab and the dull. Can't get much duller than a stone wall. How about four of them? And a stone wall? A stone ceiling? You shouldn't have. Maybe villains are as predicable as they are ugly and... Well, ugly. Every prison I've ever been held captive in has stone walls. It's like every evil being bought their dungeons from a 70% off sale at DungeonMart or something.

Anyways, back to the Hero. Can we just appreciate his uselessness for a second? By the time he has received his toothpick of destiny – I mean, the (fill-in-the-blank) Sword – I've already been captured. Whee. And then he spends the next few months of his life bungling his way through dungeons, castles, and the insides of giant whales trying to save me. It would be a nice sentiment if A) he had two brain cells to rub together and B) if he would pick up the pace a little. The methodical drip of water down your cell wall gets boring after a while, you know?

No one ever puts the Hero behind bars! Maybe I should kidnap him some time and just let him sit there. Without any pots to break or deus-ex-convenient-holes to escape from he'd be lost. I could sit outside of the door and eat bonbons while I watched him there. No, that would be truly evil. And also kind of hilarious.

 _But Zelda,_ you say, _surely being imprisoned by the darkest overlord Hyrule has ever seen can't be_ that _bad._ Well, my friend, you would be wrong. Ever tried to play _Go Fish_ with a Bokoblin? Let me just tell you this – you end up with a lot of dead fish.

 _But Zelda,_ you say, _you're not being tortured in there. What's there to complain about?_ Hmm, let me think. How about Ganondork's singing voice? Or the Moblin's _dulcet tones?_ If you had to listen to the ballads of their people in grotesque, hideous detail, you'd agree with me that it's torture enough. Forget waterboarding, just get a barbershop quartet of Moblins in your interrogation room and secrets will spill like waterfalls. Or the Hero's dignity on a day-to-day basis. Maybe I'm being too rough on him, but I will never remove the scarring memories of _The Moblin is a Tramp_ from my head. Like I said, torture.

What happens after I'm rescued (FINALLY), then? Does the world go back to normal? Er... _No._ Guess who has to work with taxes to deal with the economic crash of a supervillain terrorizing the land? Who has to reimburse damages and build back things that the Hero blew up when he was 'testing out 'his bomb bag? Surprise, that would be me. Trust me, one look at the realm's taxes and the Hero would wet his pants.

Wait... Can he even read?

All of this to say... They'd better name this game after me.

 ***low-key Sinatra jokes***

 **If you get the reference in the above A/N give yourself a round of applause and don't go kill a Senator. Because that would be awful while simultaneously hilarious. But more awful.**

 **If you enjoyed please drop in a review! All of my work pays off when I hear what you think: the bad, the bad, and the ugly. I hope that's not what you think, but it's probably true :)**

 **Long A/Ns are annoying so until next time!**


	37. Paradox

**HELLO YES I AM ALIVE**

 **Well, it's been a** ** _while._** **Welcome back! I have overcome life/severe lack of inspiration to bring to you today... TTC!**

 **It came to my mind that,** ** _wow, how can you hold an entire shield and massive ball and chain and boomerang and bottles and lanterns and fishing rods and etc. in one pouch at your waist?_** **Paradoxes, my friend. Read on.**

People don't understand paradoxes. Nor do they understand the proper way to make them.

You want a wallet that can hold your immeasurable wealth in one place? Sure, I can make it for you. Of course, I'll ignore the fact that your immeasurable wealth will be located _in one place,_ and I'll also note that wallets have an uncanny habit of getting lost. Hey, you try living off of a spellcaster's budget.

Next I'll assemble the paradoxes. If you want a wallet to hold your entire fortune, it's going to have to be larger than your garden-variety wallet. And no one wants to tote around an enormous wallet you sling over your shoulder like a backpack, bulging with sharp-ended rupees. Yeah, I'd prefer not to have those things sticking in my rear end. Thus, we'll need to fabricate a paradox. They're not all that hard to find, if you think about it. Just a few stops around Hyrule and your fortune-holding wallet will be ready to go.

One of my favorite paradoxes is the feather of an unwise owl. Of course, you can replace 'unwise' with any adjective of your choosing. I think 'doltish' and 'a pathetic waste of space' are the least colorful of the names I've imagined. Kaepora Gaebora is usually perched in some tree ranting about Map Subscreens, so I stop by, chitchat for a while, and make off with a few feathers while he's busy explaining to me the functions of the Hyrulean judicial system. I tell you, that owl wouldn't know his head from his tail if the former wasn't stuck on his neck. Speaking of his neck... Ugh. That's not natural.

Next on my route of paradoxes is a stop in Clock Town for another lecture. I'm not so much a spellcaster as a random guy who gets his ear talked off every day. This time it's a visit to the Hylian courts for a little bottle of a lawyer's truthfulness. One visit is enough to stock up my supply for a whole month, which seems very telling. It's not so bad, I guess. One time two of the lawyers got into a brawl with mechanical pencils. _Click-click-click-AAAH!_

An unfortunate but necessary paradox for making extended objects such as a wallet is a good first date. I could write a book on the awful (and somewhat hilarious) things I've seen at the Hylian nightlife. One time at a movie a guy spilled the entirety of his extra-large milk bottle down his date's dress. And then the entirety of his extra-large popcorn. It was a lactose and butter catastrophe.

A few short stops fill up the odd ingredient for the recipe: interesting homework, mail that's delivered on time (which is especially hard to come by now that the village kids have been tying the straps of the mailman's sandals together), the perfect weather, and a good haircut. I know what you're thinking – how in the great goddess Hylia's name did you find all of these things? It's not easy, but it's a job someone has to take. And it's really fun to see a milk-soaked, popcorn-speckled girl attack her date in heels. For what it's worth, I had my rupees on the girl.

An interesting stop on the checklist is Mr. Barten's milk bar, which corresponds with the first date stop as well. You can really kill two Keese with one stone at this spot – the paradoxes of good music and 'organic' eats. Those Cucco wings I ordered probably had more chemicals in them than last year's Tour de Hyrule winner. You should hear some of the bands on that stage, too – or rather, they'll be the last thing you hear before your ears start bleeding and your eardrums cave in from the sheer amount of awful overloading your brain. I think they hold the record for the world's longest drum solo. You think that's impressive? It's not.

At this point we've assembled quite the gaggle of paradoxes. Now it's time to throw together a spell for that old wallet. It would help if the wallet itself was a paradox ('fine leather' or 'imported from Skyloft'), but we'll have to do a little work ourselves. Luckily for me, I have my own paradox cauldron – one that doesn't leak, contrary to the popular belief. Once each of our paradoxes have been inserted into the cauldron I heat it to their freezing temperatures, and voila! An uber-paradox!

It takes little work to imbue the essence of paradox into an object, but you have to be very careful when you do so. I'm always sure to use my paradox tools to lift the paradox from the cauldron, usually a single tweezer, and spread the paradox over the object like marmalade. It is pivotal never to touch a paradox, because then you'll rip a hole in the space-time continuum the size of my great-aunt Lola at a buffet. Rest in peace, great-aunt Lola. I have heard space-time continuum fabric makes for great paradox ingredients, though... But that's an experiment for another time.

If properly completed, the wallet should be able to hold incredibly massive objects with no excess weight added to the bearer. Giant iron balls and chains? No problemo. Live insects? Easy. Your entire fortune? Just set it in the wallet. Traveling is a breeze, packing even breezier. The world is your oyster with your own paradox merchandise! Maybe I should try marketing.

Now go and make your own paradox-ridden tools! Have a great day, and be sure to bottle it if you do, because that's a paradox if I ever saw one.

 **It's good to be back to TTC again! Sorry to keep you all having for (forever) :)**

 **Any ideas for upcoming chapters? I'm all ears. Until next time!**


	38. Master of Keys

**Yikes, it's been a while. Hiya! What's new?**

 **This chapter is certainly new, and I guess you'll be wanting to read it. Who can blame you, with tastes so keen? ;)**

 **Read on!**

Whichever one of Locke's ancestors thought there was a niche in the market for keys, they were dead wrong.

He had (unfortunately) accepted the family business from his father, who was just as idealistic as the entirety of the grub-eaten Locke family before him. "My boy, there's a cauldron full of rupees on the other side of that ridge," Locke's old man would say, hands spreading expansively across the room. Or, more likely, the mountain of bills accumulating on the table. "You just got to get yourself up and snatch it."

Locke didn't know about rupees. Rupoors, perhaps, but certainly not the immeasurable wealth his father had promised him. Because if the failing key business was doing anything for him, it was digging his grave. It might as well be locking up the chains of poverty that bound him to the bellows, trying with all his might to get a good batch of keys out for a needy customer.

 _Maybe this time they won't break._

Then _this time_ blended into _next time,_ and the cycle continued. Locke hated keys with a passion, but he hated his father a little less. So he stuck with Locke and Sons Locksmith as it dragged him deeper and deeper into debt, desperately trying to put on a good show for the customers.

Usually business went well if they didn't ask for demonstrations. From the outside, Locke and Sons Locksmith keys looked brand-thumping good. The shiny mystery metal, the Locke family version of a secret recipe, was formed from melted-down aluminum cans and bottlecaps. Grandpa Locke had said the resulting material was surprisingly durable, which Locke himself agreed with until you stuck the poor key in a keyhole. Maybe it got cold feet, claustrophobic, _something_. Maybe the key and the tumblers had a row. Locke couldn't figure the problem out – whenever he stuck his "surprisingly durable," "top class," "top-of-the-line" keys in a lock, they snapped cleanly in two.

Without fail.

At first he thought there was a problem with the family recipe, because there was no way aluminum cans and bottlecaps could make strong metal. Locke prided himself in enough scientific knowledge to assume that. So he had set about trying to break the keys in every way possible. He threw the blasted things at stone walls, crushed them under boulders, even threw one into a coop of cuccos, to no effect. The things could withstand a bomb blast. But when he slipped the metal into a keyhole – _snap!_

It was a most maddening dilemma, and one that was dragging him down with it. As soon as customers got word that Locke and Sons Locksmith sold keys that broke after one use, his business was practically boycotted. The only people who frequented his dusty store were hopefuls trying to help their neighbor out (or perhaps operating on some sort of bet), those who wanted a prank key to get back at their mothers-in-law, or newcomers who didn't know any better. It wasn't enough to keep the business afloat, that was certain. As the alarming number of FINAL NOTICEs on his desk seemed to indicate, he needed to do something drastic, and fast.

At first, he was optimistic that he would get some big break. Maybe word would get out about the locksmith whose keys broke, a sort of anecdote. It soon became clear, however, that the only joke was his hope that Locke and Sons Locksmith had any sort of future. One time a strange-looking Gerudo stormed in and bought out every key he owned, which sent Locke on a sort of spending frenzy. He bought a horse and gave it away that same day to a dancing-girl when he was in a drunken stupor. So much for big business. The facts seemed to be piling up against him: Locke would have to close up shop.

The thought was heartbreaking, but the fact that his ancestors were idiots for making broken keys raised his spirits a little.

Just when all seemed lost, Locke was browsing the day's newspaper (fished from the bottom of a trash can, of course) and stumbled across a rather interesting article. It was hard to read the words through a curious stain that mottled the snippet, but from what he could make out a certain posh family's bone-china vases had been stolen. The punch was the thief used their keys to enter, a clean escape that guaranteed his success. There was even a snub to Locke and Sons Locksmith, saying the family would certainly _not_ be purchasing their new keyring from Locke. The townspeople would get a kick out of that, as they always did. A scowl furrowed Locke's face, which was soon replaced with a brilliant smile.

He had been looking at the family business completely wrong for _years_ now! Everything fell into place in seconds – cheaply made, self-breaking keys, which ensured crippling debt. His father's sly comments about massive sums of rupees. The world was suddenly made clear, as if someone tugged back the curtain of doubt and fear that had been clouding Locke's judgment. What if the fabled cauldron or rupees wasn't a cauldron after all? What if it was a _safe_?

For all of Locke's life, his ancestors hadn't been shaping him to be a locksmith. They had been shaping him to be a _thief._

Armed with a battalion of keyrings and his wits, he was going to strike fear into the hearts of the foolish townspeople. No cupboard, drawer or boss battle room was – well, _safe –_ from him now.

As the master of keys, he was going to rule the world.

 **I cannot spell the word anscestors for the life of me.**

 **Reviews, favorites and follows are welcome as always! Hope this is a nice refresher after (probably a month) of no TTC. Chin up, wonderful reader!**

 **Until next time!**


	39. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

**HEY WHAT'S UP? It's been too long! I've missed TTC :)**

 **Right, back to the story. Thanks as always for reading, and you know what comes next... Read on!**

* * *

 _HYRULE HERALD_

 _Massive Explosion Rocks Castle Town_

 _39 injured in the blast_

 _CTPD bring in suspects for questioning: What are their motives and means?_

* * *

"Name?"

"Mum's the word, ma'am. Can't have my secret identity getting out to the public."

"Well, no amount of superhero mystique can fool a fingerprint identification test."

"Hold up, Buns and Ammo. You fingerprinted me?"

"Yeah, when you were passed out and drooling in the back of my car."

"Oh. Let me tell you, last time I was passed out and drooling in the back of a beautiful dame's car, it ended rather differently."

"Hmm, I'm sure she wasn't a cop. Do you know why you're here?"

"Er... Freshen my memory. That stirred-not-shaken martini is making things a little hazy."

"Isn't it the other way around?"

"I'm trying to be original. Every superhero has a gimmick."

"Right... According to our files, your name is Link, an average joe from Castle Town who decided he would play the hero and ended up _blowing up part of the castle._ Some Hero of Time you are."

"Technically, it was Ganondorf who blew up the castle."

"But you helped."

"I wasn't _trying_ to!"

"You're getting on my nerves now. Tell me what went down."

"It all began many years ago when my parents were brutally murdered in front of me."

"Wait, what? For real?"

"Now I've caught your attention, huh? No, they're living a happy retired life in Subrosia. I thought, you know, every hero has his own origin story."

"Yeah, but they're usually not made up."

"I'll take you up on that one, lady. Who kills two well-to-do ritzy parents and leaves their kid as a loose end? I would at least steal his kiddie tux before I left. Improbable, that's what I think."

"How about we stop discussing the lives of fake superheroes and get onto the massive crater smoking in the center of Castle Town."

"Right you are. Fast-forward to the bar across the street. I was sitting there, sipping my martini like a perfectly good spy, when this guy shows up. Real shady-looking, with sunglasses and everything, even thought it's well into the night. So I get to thinking, this guy is either about to disconnect from the Matrix, or something fishy's going on here. I reported him."

"Let's talk about that. In your lifetime you've called in a total of fifty-three reports of crime... None of which proved to be true. Very impressive. What exactly makes a cat look like an IED?"

"I'm a cautious guy. But when I caught sight of this shifty character I knew he was the real deal. Of course, I got the standard message: _Don't call this number again, you're a nuisance to the police,_ all that jazz. I had to take matters into my own hands."

"Oh, great. Why do I get the feeling this will end badly?"

"The guy orders a Scotch, and we get to talking over the basketball game that's playing. Says his name's Ganondorf, hailing from some small town in the desert, real shifty-like. Mind you, I've seen quite a few spy movies, so I know to water him up until he's spilling his secrets. Turns out it's rude in Gerudo culture if you don't drink alongside your fellow man at the bar, and I've downed a few martinis at this point, so my memory may not be quite so sharp."

"Please, indulge me."

"Aye aye, cap'n. Anyways, he's getting to the _I love you, man!_ stage in the night, and I know I'm making headway. That's when he shows me the lighter."

"The one found at the crime scene. _With_ your fingerprints on it?"

"The very same. He tells me it's rigged to explode part of the castle, and I'm like _shiiiiiit,_ this is getting intense. I was just kind of playing at spying in the bar, and I stumble across a bomber? Totally preposterous."

"Funny, that's what Clock Town PD thinks too."

"I don't panic, because a good spy never loses his head, so I keep the Gerudo talking while I try to slip the lighter off him. He says he's going to hit a part of the castle that'll open up the dragon cages, which is totally sweet –"

"They have dragons in the castle?"

"I know, right? But that was the Gerudo's plan, to unleash the dragons and wreak havoc on the city. It was pretty smart, too, but I couldn't let him get away with it. Justice will always prevail! Never give up, never surrender!"

"Oh, great."

"I'm tempted to call in the threat again, but the police and I have never had the best relationship."

"Yeah, the felonies under your belt will do that to you."

"Those were accidents! The cat turned out okay after all! I knew you cops wouldn't believe me, so I ripped the lighter from his fist and dropped it in my martini."

"How noble."

"Then I threw the martini against the wall. I guess the lighter's wires short-circuited, because the bombs that actually went off weren't enough to blow a hole in the dragon cages. If they exist."

"Wow. That's actually... Slightly impressive."

"I know, right? So the Gerudo gets all pissed, I can't imagine why, and chokeslams me a few times against the floor, and the cops _finally_ come and pull him off me, and the next thing I know I'm in here. Being interrogated by a strangely hot agent."

"I'm going to ignore that last comment. You're pleading innocence?"

"I'm pleading badassery, ma'am! It was incredible, you should have been there. Except for the chokeslamming part. I think he broke a few of my ribs there."

"Thanks so much for your time, o noble Hero. I can't believe I'm saying this, but is there anything the CTPD can do for you while we review your claim?"

"Yeah – do I get a lawyer?"

 **Once again, thank you for reading. Your reviews, favorites and follows make my day!**

 **Until next time! (any ideas? I'm all ears)**


	40. Strange

**It's a day of decades. TTC hits 40 chapters and Remnants hits 50!**

 **I know, two chapters in three days? I'm just as shocked as you are. Read on!**

There's magic all around you, and it takes a special sort of magician to be able to control it.

Everything's got a little bit of magic in it, call it life of soul or whatever the hell you want, I'm not choosy. I've seen trees that can speak Ancient Hylian and spirits that sleep inside swords. I've seen beetles made of metal that drop bombs on desert shrimp, and not the kind for eating. I've never _tried_ bomb-seared desert shrimp, of course. Maybe I'll add it to my bucket list

Ordinary folk can't quite breach the boundary between our world in the spirit realm. No, I'm not high, I'm being serious. Some places you can fit a pencil through, then there's whole breaches altogether. Worlds blend together and some things get switched around. Ever put down a book and come back for it, only to find it gone moments later? Yeah, it's hovering in some alternate world right now. Betcha some aliens are pouring over it as we speak.

Relax, I'm only joking. It'll be a parallel _you_ , of course. But don't think too hard about it, elsewise I'll have a paradox on my hands, and it's not too pleasant tearing _real_ you from alternate you. Brain cells shift around just as easily as books.

I've been studying magic for ages now, reading up all there is under the goddesses' green realm. Or should I say _realms?_ There's plenty of stuff to learn and plenty of fieldwork to study up on. Did you know that Like Likes utilize minor teleportation modules in their innards to steal the gear of unsuspecting travelers? Some idiot tried to make a Like Like racket, a crime circle, by tapping into their cores. Clumsy spells, bungled magic, it was a disaster – anyways, ever seen a humanoid Like Like?

Magic isn't all pretty spells and flowers and cutesy little rabbits and deer holding hands and singing quaint folk tunes. It's more like cutesy rabbits and deer chasing you down with spears strapped to their backs, chanting for your murder in Ancient Hylian. You've got to keep your wits about you and stay sharp or you'll end up with a golden talisman up your behind, singing soprano in a kick line with Lizalfos and Bokoblins.

There's all sorts of magic out there, specific to every species. I've managed to master a few types myself, besides Hylian: Goron I had down in an hour, all you have to do is grunt a bit and waves your arms around, and if nothing happens it means you've done something right. Zora took a while longer; it took ages before I could convince the oceans I had flippers. I heard some kid did it with a mask or two, but even magic has its limits. I call bull.

People expect magicians to wear a fancy getup, but I drew the line at tights. Someone was rearing for me to have a cape and everything. And whoever made up the notion that magicians wear slippers and turn rocks into flowers is a load of tosh. Nothing's more satisfying in the world than breaking someone's nose with a good spell or two.

I could regale you with some of my more daring escapades. Once the floating head of this dance team dropout was chasing me around a temple. I was trying to swipe a mirror shard that would patch one of the world breaches, standard stuff, ancient priests to see and places to be. To top it all off, I had been playing a glorified game of tag with the floating _hand_ of the aforementioned dance team dropout minutes before, walking around with this massive freaking marble. Seriously, I've read the ten tomes of _Impa Nourve_ and you stick me in a temple with marbles?

Long story short, I defeated the dude with a few nifty spells and the swipe of the Master Sword – yeah, not all magicians have magic wands and staffs, sorry – and I was out of there. Off to another daring adventure, I'll tell you. Like running around on top of moving trains, firing everything I have over my shoulder because there's a massive squid monster after me.

You still look disinterested, so I'll tell you about my piece de resistance, my finest moment. I'm sitting at the top of this massive crater, one of the biggest breaches I've ever seen. Not to go all smart-aleck on you, but worlds are like fabric, and places where they breach are like torn seams. They'll bend and stretch and rip apart every once and a while, and it's up to any wizard worth his fairy wings to stitch 'em back upright.

There's an obelisk that's keeping the breach held shut, but it's going to tear at any moment. I'm ready and prepared to fix things up nice and neat. Things like this usually happen to me, of course, given my luck, and you wouldn't believe who but a hundred Bokoblins spawn out of nowhere. I pull the Master Sword out, and all hell broke loose that day.

Needless to say, that breach was closed by nightfall.

Before you get any thoughts that we magicians are all bite and no bark, I'll tell you that I've helped down more kitties from trees than I'm willing to count. Some witches decide to use their powers to make houses out of candy and soft stuff like that. I once met a man who wandered with world with his staff and a sack slung over his back, playing a harp for the flowers. It's a wonder he wasn't playing for the _grass,_ if you're picking up what I'm putting down... We're a motley sort, we magical folks, and I suppose it makes us all the more interesting.

You'd be surprised what can tap into the magical realm as well. Massive armadillos swallowing fireballs, giant squids with only one weakness in the world (boomerangs – I learned that one through trial and error), you get the picture. Some of these creatures even have the word _wizard_ in their names, like the Wizzrobes that the Wind Temple had a problem with a few years ago. I heard of some guy who was going around the realm rounding up all of the creatures he could get his hands on to study their magic, but his name escapes me. Wonder where he wound up? Dead, I assume. Don't give me that look, you haven't looked down the maw of a massive, lava-dripping, enchanted Goron before.

Mind you, just a few arrows did the trick, but it sounds impressive, doesn't it?

The job's tough, but someone's got to do it. Thanks for letting me bend your ear for a while. And the next time there's something strange in your neighborhood, you know who to call.

 **I might have seen Doctor Strange very recently soooooo... :)**

 **Thanks as always for reading TTC and until next time!**

 **(Credit to TheChargingRhino for some great ideas and the inspiration for this chap)**


	41. Everyone's Got a Gimmick

**At far too long of a last, we have a TTC update! Welcome back and happy Friday to you all.**

 **Well, what are you waiting for? Read on?**

You can't blame the goddesses for not being original, I'll give you that. Hero conventions are starting to get pretty packed with all the new additions, and each one as crazy as the next.

I've been around for a while, being the first real Hero and all – I've still got a picture of me and the golden goddesses clubbing back when they still had their Afros. Those were the good old days, before the mortals screwed the world over again and the goddesses went to work on a new Hero. In my defense, I think brown hair suits the Hero of the realm, but apparently the goddesses favor blondes now.

Let me just say this – they had no problem with brown hair back in ye olden days. Ye good old days, I should say...

It's taken a while to get used to the new guys, partly because they're all so bizarre. I mean, _trains?_ You couldn't think of anything better than _trains?_ How about missile-launching interplanetary vessels? A stagecoach would have served a better purpose. No wonder the poor guy sits holed up in the corner all the time downing drinks instead of talking to the lot of us.

One of the guys has this great party trick that never gets old – he can turn himself into a bona fide painting and sidle around in two dimensions. We have this running bet on how badly we can scare Din each year, and a while back she actually obliterated the entire party room in a giant ball of wrath. Power, no kidding... But we still keep trying to recreate that fateful day every year. It was, as the new Heroes are so fond of saying, _lit._

One of the newbies starting showing off for a while by turning into a wolf, but then his shadow started roasting him something fierce about it. That's something to think about – is being able to turn into a wolf worth it if you have a ridiculously sarcastic companion to chase you around? Back in my day no one every had to lead me by the hand throughout the realm, I just had a sword and my wits. But these days every Hero has his own guardian angel watching his back. More like pissing him off, though. I guess I got it lucky, sans twittery fairies and all that.

Then there are the kids, who spend most of the time during the convention sloshing punch down their fronts and showing off their dorky, kid-sized weapons. One of them brought out his conductor's wand and started making currents that would blow the goddesses' panties up. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him around since...

There's the clones, as we affectionately call them behind their backs, who are always bickering with each other. That's how most of the punch gets sloshed around in the first place, if you must now. It was bad with just the four of them, but the goddesses must have decided they hadn't filled their quota of kiddie shenanigans and made three more of them. Now the purple one's kind of lonely – until he's kicking out the blue kid's teeth, that is.

If anyone should act high and mighty, it would be me, don't you think? After all, I was the first one of these seaweed-for-brains Heroes, and I'll remind them of it endlessly, yet some of the newbies think they're so special. Sure, I'll give the goddesses and the mortals some points for creativity on the whole weapons business, but slingshots start getting old after a while. Every time some smartass decides to make a wind-themed item the goddesses' panties get blown up. It's like a disease.

Then there's the archery competitions and _my-ancestor-is-a-better-swordsman-than-you_ bickering – which is entirely true, seeing as I am all of their ancestors – until the goddesses decided to throw a wrench in the whole timeline thing. One the dueling and bloodlust had properly subsided they filled us in that we had broken time and they had patched it up with a few alternate timelines and switching things around a little bit. The goddesses are always pulling things like this, especially when they decide they need a new Hero, so I've gotten used to their antics. _Great,_ I thought, _who cares? Just top off this wineglass and let the clones see how much of a pencil they can stick up their noses. Big deal._

But, as it turns out, my descendants really did screw up time, and you won't believe who the goddesses put at the top of the food chain to make things right again.

If there was every the biggest idiot of the lot of us, it's him. The kid has manners that made you wonder if he's lived on a secluded island floating in the middle of the sky for all of his life. From the "fantastical" stories he's told us about his adventures, the goddesses were practically yanking him on a leash for the duration of his quest, and his spirit-guardian-being is an AP Statistics teacher.

And _he's_ the one who gets to fly?

It doesn't help that he's been the closest one to scoring some romance with the princess, either, which has been a pet project of most of the Heroes since my day. Apparently courship isn't the norm anymore, who would have guessed? Anyways, the kid and his oaf of a bird get some nasty looks whenever he decides to roll up with his fancy wheels. _Literal_ whees if you're the train squirt, I should add.

I fought dragons back in my day. I explored dungeons and wandered around without a clue for what I was doing, and that was cool. Now Heroes are like robots, following the goddesses' liberal uses of divine intervention, _and_ they get all the cool new gimmicks. What gives?

Some of us can travel through time, turn into adorable forest creatures (but don't ask him about it, it's a touchy subject) and sport bomb outfits like nobody's business. Some can somersault off of horses or fight their way through the intestines of sea creatures. And you mean to tell me that _he_ gets to start off the timeline?

In a word: _hell no._ The next time he kills something that isn't a friendly cartoon movie monster reject, then we'll talk. But until then... We all know who the real boss is around here.

 _Me._

 **Reviews, favorites, and follows go to the wounded feelings of the first Hero. Some people have it rough. Be sure to add in your favorite Hero gimmick in your review!**

 **Expect more TTC updates in the future, and possibly a new story idea to boot... :)**

 **Until next time!**


	42. Lock and Key

**Unusually long for a TTC chapter, a sort of pet project I was working on a while ago. Sort of like a steampunk Ocarina of Time? Might as well include it as an update!**

 **I hope you had a great holiday season and New Years! Without further ado, read on! :)**

The rig from Castle Town looked right spiffy, if Link had anything to say about it. The sides were draped with rich silks that glittered in the fading sunlight, glancing off the gleaming metal boughs of the dreadnought and giving the entire ship the look of an enormous pouf.

The huge sack of air hanging over the heads of the royal entourage didn't do the frilly craft any favors, either. The airbag was embroidered with enough stitches to send any self-respecting doctor to heaven, and it was a wonder the entire thing hadn't fallen out of the sky yet. Link assumed that it must have been some sort of decorative cover, but in his opinion it only made the royal pricks look even more foolish. What kind of pilot in his right mind would stick a needle in his airbag?

Clock Town never saw too much action in the sky as it was – the occasional trawler and tax collector who had stumbled into the boonies – so the pretty-as-a-postcard dreadnought caught the attention of more than a few residents. Link knew better than to take things at face value, though. He could see the massive cannons hidden underneath the ribbons.

Castle Town folks didn't mess around when it came to artillery.

"Who d'you reckon brought that bugger in?" Kafei drawled from his spot on the brig, dangling his legs over the side of the _Epona._ His boots beat a brisk rhythm against the aluminum hull.

"Probably some mass murdered hiding in our midst." Malon called from the engine room, mere feet away from where Kafei sat. Link would bet his pilot's license that if someone shouted from the dreadnought's engine room he couldn't be heard at all – the ship was absolutely massive, hanging over Clock Town's decrepit aerodocks like ritzy raincloud.

"You could feed everyone in Clock Town with one of 'em bolts of silk." Malon raised her nose as the dreadnought bobbed closer, its shimmering silks gleaming golden. "I think it's awful they're teasing us like that."

"They're not teasing, they're just showing off." Kafei cocked his arm back and threw a screw with all his might at the dreadnought. The thing was halfway across town, though, and the scrap of metal clattered onto a rooftop harmlessly. "Some people could use that, you know?"

"I wonder if the princess is showing up. Doesn't she do tours or something?" Malon practically scowled. "She's a right movie star."

Kafei leaned his head against _Epona_ 's rail, a dreamy expression crossing his face. "I'd hardly mind _that_ kind of visit myself."

Malon sent a short blast of the horn rocketing through the ship's hull, giving Kafei a start. "You're rotten. They just want more money from us."

"What's there to give?" Link shrugged, rapping a knuckle against Epona's siding. "We can hardly keep the ship together as it is. They're going to tax us landing now?"

He turned away from Malon and Kafei's bickering and hurried up the rigging, clinging close to the rail as he neared the solar sails. Some of the cells were punched through from hail, but the rest were in prime working order, a steal Link had to bargain nearly all of his savings away for. The result left something to be desired, but the view was spectacular. All of Clock Town sprawled out before him, ships taking off and docking, filling the skies with a chattering sort of activity. Link could stay up there on the sails forever, just watching the world go by.

A lone blot stood out against the sweeping landscape, though, as mechanical arms lifted and fixed the dreadnought in their spindly clutches. Plumes of guide fires peppered the pouf as it centered itself over the dock, easily righting the heavy ship into a perfect landing with the touch of a button.

Link couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as he watched the ship dock cleanly. He had built Epona from scratch, welding every part together with his bare hands. He would sell his soul and then some to have the fancy tech Castle Town folks had on their hands, with guide fires and cannon to fend off against sky pirates. He'd be invincible.

"Get your head out of the clouds, we have to dock!" Malon hollered to him from the engine room. "And tell Kafei to get off his behind and help me with the ropes!"

"I can hear you!" Kafei shouted back, grumbling as he brushed himself off and started to pull his way up the rigging. Link slung a length of rope through his belt, cinching it tightly before hurrying across _Epona_ 's slender beams to tie up the solar sails. The sun was setting anyways, and he hadn't managed to fix up the ship's storage capacity so he could fly into the night.

Malon piloted _Epona_ in a lurching descent, dodging peddlers in glorified flying carts and solar boards as they zipped to and fro. Link kept a firm grip on the sails as they slowly fell back down to the earth, wishing Malon would let him take the ship down again. He had had _one_ fender-bender with a police officer who had threatened to put the crew on the no-fly list, and suddenly Malon had gotten the idea that she could handle the ship's rickety controls. Link didn't mind so much today – he could get a good view of the dreadnought as it descended under the rooftops of Clock Town, fading from view behind a massive series of castle turrets.

"We should go check the ship out. Maybe they need work." Kafei shrugged from his perch on the beam.

"As what, a dishwasher? What would they want the likes of us for on that frilly thing?" Link scoffed, and Kafei rolled his eyes.

"It's better than being on this hunk of junk." Kafei fired back, a grin spreading across his face as Link boxed his ears.

"You take that back!"

There was a sort of understanding amongst _Epona_ 's crew: They all wanted to get out of Clock Town some day, where the most upright of citizens had their own smuggling rings. Castle Town was only a boatride away, full of gleaming marble and goods from the Gerudo and Gorons, with hanging gardens and gold and all things rich and wealthy. Link wanted to leave so badly it hurt him like a physical wound, but the best Epona could do was give him a joyride or two every so often. She was so small he couldn't even get coin off of smuggling.

"Check it out, she's sending out fliers." Kafei pointed above the buildings as Malon shifted _Epona_ closer to an empty docking station, its metallic feelers already reaching for the sky to grip the ship's hull. Sure enough, a series of miniature, two-person planes burst from their upright positions on the dreadnought's surface and fluttered towards the sky, all gleaming chrome. Link thought he saw one trailing ribbons.  
"Look at that, they're all going different ways. Why's that?"

"Art museums and swanky businesses do that, too. So you never know which one's has the real goods." Link replied. "It'll be minutes before the pirates come out of their holes. I would have taken ground transportation."

"And do what, risk getting mugged? They'd have their fancy silks ripped off of them down to their unmentionables." Kafei snorted with laughter. One of the ships buzzed directly overhead, fast as an arrow and just as slim. The hum of smooth machinery mingled with the barking coughs of _Epona_ 's engines for a moment before the ship zoomed out of sight.

After a fairly successful landing resulting in one jammed piston and a series of new scratches on the ship's hull, the crew of the _Epona_ departed from the docks and hurried off to the tavern. Link pulled his collar up to his ears, keeping his head down against the biting chill of the wind and the glares that were cast across the street. Giving the wrong person the wrong look in Clock Town could win you a free black eye and an empty wallet, and he had learned a while ago it was better not to play the hero and keep your head down.

He hated it more than Kafei and Malon did, not being able to look the gangbangers and the thugs in the eye. Of course, they had finer ships than anyone in town, and he valued Epona more than anything, but he wished he could keep his chin up for once.

The building was so worn-out the paint on its windows had long flaked away, earning the establishment within the ambiguous title "The Tavern." Link knew everyone who sat inside, their barstool of preference, and how many pistols they had strapped to their hips. He strode back to his table near the rickety upright piano, where a craggy-looking Goron was beating out a folk tune on the sticky keys. The tinkle of broken glass sounded from the bar, earning a spate of applause from a particularly drunken bunch of Hylians.

"Heard anything about the dreadnought?" Link asked the pianist, who renewed his pouncing with increased vigor.

"What, have you been in the air all day? 'Course ya have, who do I think I'm talking to?" The Goron gave Link a winsome smile, revealing two missing teeth. "The king and his daughter are here in Clock Town! Bona fide royalty!"

Kafei slammed his mug against the wood of the table, splattering Malon with amber-colored foam. "No way! The princess herself?"

"A right peach she is too, wearing the whitest dress you've ever seen. I don't think the angels in chapel ever looked so clean. I reckon she's having a miserable time here." The Goron grinned. "Don't know what they're here for, though. If they think they can squeeze another rupee out of this town it'll fold."

"Any more than it has?" Malon frowned, wringing foam out of her red tresses.

The Goron cackled with laughter, pounding his fist against the keys with a crash, and continued attacking the piano as if it had done him some personal wrong.

Kafei leaned back in his chair, swiping away a mustache of foam that had formed on his top lip. "All right, to business. I heard there's a guy in the west side who's looking for a quick job. It's a _suitcase,_ Mal!" He hastily added, noticing Malon's dark expression.

"No way. We can't lose Epona, not when we're doing so well as it is. If we just scrape up a little more cash we'll be able to fix up her power storage and we're off to Castle Town."

Link crossed his arms. "And then we'll have to fix the solar sails, and then the holes in the hull, and then we'll have to get a proper airbag to keep the thing upright for long trips. It'll be one thing after another if we're still getting drained with takeoff tax."

Malon's face reddened, but she didn't reply. She was the only one of them who seemed to find something wrong with smuggling and underhanded business. Link's eyes snapped from the usual crowd to the door of the tavern as it swung open, revealing the form of a newcomer – unheard of by Clock Town's standards.

Her digs were much cleaner than Link's were by twenty thousand leagues, free of patches and stitches and the stink of poverty. Clean, oval-shaped nails clutched a fat purse of rupees in one hand and a gleaming metal pistol in the other, half-hidden beneath a scarf that could probably cover the Goron pianist from head to toe twice. She looked like the sort who tried her hardest to look inconspicuous and failed miserably – that wallet probably held more money than Link had ever seen in his lifetime.

His eyes finally rose to her face and his jaw dropped to the table. He had seen that face before – on the covers of shabby, secondhand newspapers, painted lounging on the side of ships, twisted in endless caricatures. Kafei's mug dropped to the stone floor and shattered, soaking Link's boots with warm liquid.

The princess of Hyrule stood before Link in the door of the tavern in all her royal glory.

Silence choked the tavern for a moment before the pianist recovered and started to play a sardonic, pounding rendition of the national anthem, earning a chorus of raucous laughter from the diners. The princess raised her chin, a blush tinting her cheeks red as she walked forward with all the grace of a dancer and set herself down on a barstool. Link shook off Kafei's death grip on his arm and watched as she ordered a drink from an awestruck bartender, sipping the liquid with a bitter expression on her face.

Link unabashedly started as she ducked her head lower over her drink, as if the gazes of every diner in the tavern was weighing down on her shoulders. What was the princess of Hyrule doing in a dive like this? She had already flashed a huge purse of money the moment she stepped into the bar, painting an _Epona-_ sized target on her back. Where were her bodyguards?

Some of the other diners were apparently thinking the same thing, and the tavern erupted into whispers as many threw furtive glances towards the princess. Link's eyes fell to one calloused, scar-riddled hand as it snaked down to an oil-slicked pistol. Link was no hero, to be sure, but he wasn't about to watch the princess of Hyrule get shot over pocket change on his watch.

He stood abruptly, rooting his hand pistol from his pocket and fixing its grips into his knuckles. The gun was small enough not to be spotted easily, and its miserable accuracy could be remedied by a point-blank shot. He wove through the whispering crowd until he was nearly behind the princess, snatching her upper arm in an iron grip and dragging her close.

"Follow me if you want to get out of this place alive." He whispered into her ear, so close he could hear her breath hitch as she listened to him. Lingering idly beside the bar, Link watched from the corner of his eye as the princess drew a few rupees from her wallet and dropped them on the bar with trembling fingers. That was all the wolves in the tavern needed to spring, and Link dragged the girl to the side with all of his might as a bullet pinged off of the back mirror, shattering the glass and filling the bar with screams of shock.

Running with all his might, Link dragged the girl behind him as he forced his way out of the tavern, ducking low and digging his shoulder into the stomach of burly-looking thug who stood in his way. The man folded and Link shoved his way past him and into the street, diving to the side in the direction the docks. The princess struggled to keep up with his blistering pace, keeping her head low as a few lazy shots fired after them in the alley as they ran. Twin footfalls of Kafei and Malon chased after Link as he wove his way into the dark alleys that traced back to the docks, keeping close to the walls behind tents and rickety stalls that cluttered the streets.

The princess' breath was coming short by the time Link reached _Epona_ , scrabbling up the hull and firing the engine in moments. Kafei and Malon soon followed, climbing the rigging and releasing the solar sails. Golden light spread across the sails as they lapped up the last of the fading sunlight that angled off of the buildings, and _Epona_ 's console began to tremble as power pumped through her core.

Link raised his head from the controls and saw the princess gawking at the ship with surprise and awe etched across her features. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get on!"

He could swear he saw her roll her eyes as she hoisted up her spotless skirts and climbed up the side of the hull. Not even princesses could make that action look graceful. As soon as she was on board Link gripped the foremost lever and yanked it back with all of his might, jolting Epona forward with a wrenching leap as the ship sprung for the sky.

Link was hurled away from the controls as a force from below stopped their ascent and dragged them back to the ground. Kafei and Malon started hollering from their position on the sails, and he abandoned the controls and tied himself to the deck before swinging over the rail to observe the problem. Feet dangling over the street, he looked down to see the spindly arms of the docking station keeping a firm grip on Epona's hull, the feelers digging into the metal until it bent. Spurts of steam rose from between the plates of the ship, and the metal heated to a sizzling level as Link watched.

"Did you pay the takeoff tax?" Malon bellowed down at Link, who clapped a hand to his forehead. Of all the times to get stuck without paying, it was the time they were being chased by gangsters.

A shot rocketed from a nearby alley, followed by a chorus of hoots and jeers, and Link swore as he swung himself closer to the dock. He didn't have a rupee on his person, and _Epona_ would go no-fly for sure if he managed to saw through the station and avoid payment. Craning his neck back, he saw the princess watching him from the deck.

"Rupees! You got a few?" He shouted at her, and her head disappeared for a moment. Her hand appeared a second later, and a shower of red rupees fell into Link's arms. He had never witnessed so much money in his entire life as the cash fell from the sky, and he had to check the red rupee for any signs of forgery before he inserted it into the feelers' receptacle.

Green lights flickered to life across the docking station and its gears ground to life, releasing _Epona_ to the skies. All of the pent-up energy from Link's rapid departure burst free like a rocket, and he yelped with surprise as the ship was thrust forward like one of the golden goddesses had thrown it. His feet skidded across the tiled rooftops as Epona skimmed over the Clock Town skyline. Hopefully Kafei had gotten to his senses and had started to pilot the ship...

This didn't seem to be the case, though, as Epona righted itself on a dead course for the slender turrets of the cathedral. Link started to work his way up the rope again, tugging himself up hand over hand, but he knew it would be too late before he was able to reach the cockpit. Just as he was about to holler for Malon and Kafei to get a move on the ship took a wrenching turn to the right, sending him flailing to the side as he swung underneath the ship's hull. When he raised his head he noticed why – the sleek, tar-black forms of gang ships were rising behind the cathedral's spires, chasing directly after them.

Link pulled himself up the rope with increased vigor, arms sore and breath short by the time he clambered back onto the surface. To his utmost surprise, not Kafei nor Malon but the princess stood in the engine room, hands dancing across the controls with startling skill as she guided Epona away from their pursuers. The grinding of the engine fell to a smooth purr as she piloted, and the engine complied to her touch better than it had for Link on his best of days. Soon the ship was peeling away from the gangbangers like a rocket, far out of the shooting capacity of any ranged weapon the thugs could possibly have their hands on. The chatter of gunfire cartwheeled over Link's head and his eyes snapped to the already decrepit solar sails, but the princess guided the ship in a loping swell that carried them under fire with ease.

Clock Town had faded fast into the distance before the princess disengaged herself from the controls, flicking the switch to autopilot as _Epona_ zoomed over the grassy hinterlands of the city. Link walked on unsteady legs towards the engine room, rattled by the shock of his escape and the skill of the princess. He had severely underestimated her.

"What did you do?" He asked, angling his head towards the controls. The princess smiled boldly, eyes flashing with excitement and something else he hadn't noticed in her before.

"You had the parking brake on."

"Ah. Right." Link cleared his throat, extending his hand to shake. To the princess' credit, she complied, although his hands looked like a garbage bin compared to hers. "The name's Link, captain of this here bucket of rust. Welcome on board the _Epona,_ um, my lady."

The princess rolled her eyes again. "Just Zelda will do, _captain."_ She smiled sardonically and Link scowled. "Although I must say, that was some fine work you did back there with the docks. And your ship..."

Pride rose in Link's chest and he lifted his chin, observing the length of the ship with satisfaction. "She may not look pretty, but she'll get the job done."

"You've obviously put some good work into her. Are those Tokay-Oh-Three solar sails? I thought they don't function with this model of dash." She pressed a carefully manicured nail against the control board.

"Rewired every inch of this thing. It's a pet project of mine." Link grinned when he saw the girl's eyes widen. "Surprised we country folk are competent in this sort of thing?"

Zelda's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway of the engine room like she had flown with Link since the beginning. All confidence. "That's exactly why I'm here, if you must now. The Force needs pilots, and good ones, not just the doughy rich boys they shovel through the Academy. They need crews with some steel in them."

Link raised an eyebrow at her "doughy" comment – the Hylian Air Force Academy raised some of the best pilots in the realm. If he had all the money in the world he would be enrolled there in an instant. He would need all that money, too. Tuition came with a whole string of zeroes and a dreadnought-load of rupees.

"Let me guess. We have steel? Moral fiber?" Malon called from the beams, hanging upside down by her knees so that her brilliant hair fell like a curtain about her face. Kafei himself looked surprised by the princess' words – that, or he was just shocked that the princess of Hyrule herself was standing on a deck he had shined himself.

Link held up a hand to pause, staring at Zelda as he tried to process her offer. "Wait a minute, hold up. What are you trying to say?"

The princess gave him a warm smile, but beneath it he saw a fiery sort of passion ignite in her eyes, a flash of the confidence he had witnessed when she was piloting _Epona._ "I'm trying to offer you a job, captain. Are you interested?"

 **What do you think? Should I continue with the storyline like the OC and DL/TG chapters?**

 **Thanks as always for reading! You're the real MVPs, let's be honest.**

 **Until next time!**


	43. Breath of the Wild: Backwards

**GUESS WHO'S BACK**

 **And back with a new chapter of TTC! After a week of playing Breath of the Wild, I've noticed some pretty absurd stuff going down in Hyrule. Why not satirize it? :)**

 **Read on!**

A lot of things can change in one hundred years, let me just tell you that.

When I died, we had _standards._ The "do"s and "don't"s of Hyrule were obvious – don't saddle horses that aren't solid colors, don't challenge a Guardian to a staring competition, and for the life of you, don't enter Gerudo Town if you're a dude. I've learned from experience.

Ever since I was revived in the Chamber of Resurrection, I've learned just how backwards the world has become after Calamity Ganon took over. People cook with ingredients that cancel out each other's magical properties, and Koroks have grown to the size of small houses. And, most heinous of all, I've been told that my man bun is no longer fashionable. Can you imagine?

It seems as if everything I did to keep the world together has been completely and totally undone. Monsters roam the earth freely, and no matter how many times I stab a wooden stick through their bodies, they always regenerate! Calamity Ganon rules unchecked, and Moblins and Bokoblins are breeding like... Well, Moblins and Bokoblins. I guess some things never change. Instead of tackling great monsters and creatures of the greatest evil, I'm forced to play mini-golf with glowing spheres of mystery metal. Enemies used to cower at the feet of the Hero, and now I have to dress up in a lady's garb to enter a town! Oh, the disgrace!

Apparently my reputation as the savior of Hyrule has somewhat soured over the last century. An entire clan has made it heir goal to kill me, armed with samurai weapons and bananas. I wish I was kidding, I really do.

But despite all of these setbacks, Hyrule will always be home. Nothing screams the freedom of these beautiful lands but the smell of Bokoblin guts cooking in a stove. Or the gentle caress of the wind as you glide into the camp of unsuspecting Bokoblins, exploding their entire base of operations with one well-placed fire arrow. The rolling hills and sweeping mountains, vast lakes and forests... Even the quirky townspeople have their own unique charms... To put it nicely.

A downside of being stuck in stasis for one hundred years is that most of your friends end up dead. The ones that have stuck around, however, will torment you endlessly about old stories that you can't remember. It's been a while – so what if I don't remember the girl I was betrothed to? Just give me the Zora Armor and I'm out of here. To make matters worse, even the normal people who survived the Calamity seem to be just about the worst people around. Always in need of rescuing and sending me on useless missions like I'm some kind of Rent-A-Hero to be trifled with.

Oh, wait. I am.

Some townspeople are the worst types: the ones who never venture out of their bubble of protection, but they still they can boss you around. Usually they reward me for my troubles, but never with something worthwhile like money or materials. I'm forced to accept their bundles of twigs like they're holy treasures. I should be an actor with all the experience I have pretending I care about these sorts of things. Don't these people realize there's an incorporeal menace floating around Hyrule Castle, ready to kill them at any second? That's the sort of thing that sets a guy on edge. Maybe they're used to it by now.

If any of them had a shred of common sense in their thick skulls, then my job wouldn't be half as hard. I kid you not, I've rescued this same pair of girls five times from a pack of Bokoblins because they were busy trying to find truffles and were attacked. _Truffles._ Once I find someone that appears to have two brain cells to rub together, then they transform into one of those evil cult members who are out for my blood. I can't decide which I prefer. Both are pretty amusing, and both have nearly killed me. It's the best of both worlds. Or is it the _worst_ of both worlds?

Now that Hyrule has fallen into decay, even the earth itself is rebelling against Hylian civilization. Rocks will get up from the ground and attack you in an instant. If you're not wearing ten layers of clothing you'll freeze on the mountaintops, and if you're not wearing those goddesses-awful lady garments or your skivvies then you'll bake to death in the desert. Thanks to this half of the Gerudo Desert thinks I'm a girl. Whee.

Sure, Hyrule's changed, and not in a good way. But there are some things that still remain. I can still whip up some Dubious Food like nobody's business, and my pot-smashing skills remain unparalleled. Even though the realm seemed to be cloaked (and I mean _literally_ cloaked) in darkness, there are still those who yearn for the light. And so long as people like them remain, there is hope for the future, no matter how bleak the present may seem.

Until I find them, though, I'm stuck here with ancient shriveled skeletons giving me spirit orbs and throwing still-moving skeleton arms into Moblin skulls. A guy can dream.

 **If you review, don't forget to drop in your craziest BotW moment (if you have it) or your craziest Zelda moment in general. I'm always looking for new stuff to write about, and you may be my inspiration!**

 **Also, if you're looking for a more serious story I'd recommend The Samurai Prince's _The Mask_. Just a side-note :)**

 **Until next time!**


	44. Red Sky at Morning

**Happy Thursday, wonderful reader! I hope you're ready for another Breath of the Wild story, because I sure am.**

 **I was playing said game when the Blood Moon appeared for, I don't know, the _fiftieth_ time, when a wild thought occurred to me. How would the weather channel react to such an event? And voila.**

 **Read on!**

"Hello, Hyrule, and welcome back to Channel Seven News! Everything that's fit for television and more, that's our motto. Eh, Greg?"

"You sure are right, Jeff. Now's the time of the hour for our daily forecast. Provided to you in real time thanks to our lovely sponsors, Beedle's Bargain Business. Lovely stuff from Beedle, I tell you. I'm legally obligated in my contract with this four-point-two-out-of-five-star-rated news source to inform you of Beedle's excellent deals, including but not limited to Restless Crickets, Hot-Footed Frogs, Octo Balloons, which are a favorite with the kids, and many more. Anyways, back to the weather, Jeff."

"I can hardly breathe for anticipation, Greg."

"Tomorrow we have a high chance of thunderstorms, so be sure to un-equip any metal weapons, bows or shields or you'll be a smoking pile of _fries_ , if you know what I mean. Guardian weapons are highly recommended for traveling in bad weather, especially from Guardian Brands Incorporated, who we have to include in every hour of news service due to the terms of our contract or face the swift mercy of death."

"Indeed, Jeff!"

"Before we get back to your daily dose of crippling depression – I mean, the news – have you noticed the lovely weather we're having today, Greg?"

"I sure have, Jeff... Hold on, we're getting something live. Only a moment, viewers... It appears there's a meteorological phenomenon occurring across Hyrule...What's this? An anonymous tip just informed us that there are reports of the moon and sky turning blood red. The entire sky appears to be burning! Have you heard anything about such a phenomenon, Jeff?"

"Who, me? Are you kidding? I went to college for sports marketing, not this weather business. All you have to do is point at a blank screen and make ridiculous assumptions. We meteorologists are rewarded for being wrong! You think I'm some kind of weather expert?"

"Jeff, we're on air."

"Ah. Er, right. I can't say I have, Greg. Are there any other reports of this phenomenon?"

"I'm getting something right now. Citizens are claiming that monsters are re-spawning from the dead! They're appearing right out of thin air! Already the casualty rates are rising! Jeff, we may have an international incident on our hands. We must be the first responders to this crisis!"

"Hold your Stalhorses, Greg. Let's think this through. The entire atmosphere has turned red, monsters are spawning from the ground without cause, and you want to _intervene_?"

"Well, what would you suggest, Jeff? Should we abandon our posts as reliable newscasters and leave our viewers to wallow in their uncertainty?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. I'll pop some popcorn."

"Jeff, I'm affronted! Excuse our pause, ladies and gentlemen, as we're gathering information about this incident. Records show that Bokoblins, Lizalfos, and Moblins have all appeared from oblivion and have reportedly been resurrected around known monster camps. We at Channel Seven would advise for all citizens who wish to remain safe during this strange period to please stay away from any of these sites."

"I have a call on line two from a Mister Hestu from East Necludia – he wants to know if this is the end of the world. Any comment, Greg?"

"Absolutely preposterous! Your maracas will live to see another day, Hestu. Please, everyone stay calm while we gain more information on this incident."

"And another call on line four – Senna from Hateno Village says that if she's going to die she might as well go out with a bang and wants me to ask you if you're single."

"Again, we'll keep our viewers updated as quickly as we can with any information – wait, _what?_ "

"You know what, Senna has the right idea. Megan, if you're watching this, I just wanted to let you know I still love you, even though you took custody of my impressive collection of Hyrule Herbs. Come back to me!"

"Honestly, Jeff! On live television! It's just a weather pattern! I daresay!"

"Daruk from Eldin on line five would like to know what sort of weather could cause such a phenomenon."

"Finally, someone sensible in all of this mess! The bloodred sky could be caused from excess amounts of sailors taking warning in the morning or sailors delighting at night. Any combination of these two events could have led to this phenomenon. An excellent question."

"Childrens' rhymes? The world has already dissolved into calamity!"

"Wait one minute, Jeff. I just received information that the nefarious mastermind of this blood moon has come forward. This just in, folks – the perpetrator is an adult incorporeal cloud, about one hundred feet tall and five hundred feet wide. He calls himself Ganon."

"Ooh, Calamity Ganon. It has a nice ring to it."

"In the worst terror attack on Hyrulean soil since yesterday, this Ganon character is resurrecting every foul creature to roam the earth in an attempt to beat the people into submission. Repeat after me, viewers. _We will not be beaten into submission!_ "

"It's not like they could beat us very hard, anyway. Half of those monsters are armed with Boko Spears."

"Thank you for that oddly encouraging message, Jeff."

"Anytime, Greg."

"Just a moment, loyal Channel Seven viewers – my boss is waving at me frantically and gesturing for me to run... Oh, no! He's just been gored through with a Moblin Spear! They've found us! Everyone, fight for your lives! Yes, Jeff, you _can_ use your coffee cup as a weapon! This is Greg from Hyrule's highest-rated news source, signing off!"

 **For those of you who haven't been versed in archaic old wives' tales, the saying goes that " _red sky at morning, sailors take warning, red sky at night, sailors delight,"_ which apparently has something to do with the sky and weather and all those shenanigans. I guess Greg's a believer.**

 **Any recommendations for the next chapter? Any game in particular you want to explore? Can't wait to hear what you come up with :)**

 **Until next time!**


	45. Recipe for Success (Part II)

**Help I can't stop writing TTC chapters about Breath of the Wild :P**

 **This can be seen as a semi-sequel to a long-posted TTC chapter, _Recipe for Success,_ when I was still doing stories from the main Zelda canon. How long ago was that, the Stone Age?**

 **Without further ado, read on!**

You'd be surprised the delicacies you can whip up with some intestines, addictive mushrooms and a cricket.

I'm convinced the cooking pots across Hyrlue are magical. Throw in any five ingredients and you can whip up dishes beyond your wildest imaginings. Did you know you can put some meat and fruit in a pot and only get a fruit dish back? By tossing some wood in the brew it can somehow become edible, if only barely. And I mean _barely._ Or should I say barley? Mix up the wrong ingredients and you can get a monstrosity of nature so ridiculously vile it remains pixelated to avoid burning the Hylian eye with its filth.

Not all recipes turn out bad, however, and once you've reached master chef status like I have, you cook your way around the realm with ease. Buttered apples, baked apples, raw apples, simmered fruit – the possibilities are endless! The traits of different ingredients play off of each other, be it the essence of lightning for stealth or fire for increased strength. Be careful you don't mix ingredients with contrasting effects, though, or the effects will be nullified and you'll be left with a mundane, baseless meal. Nothing is a worse brand of shame for a culinary expert besides myself.

A tip from one master chef to another – well, I guess someone who lights an entire village on fire from trying to start a cooking fire isn't exactly a _master_ at their craft, but we'll settle this later – never be afraid to mix things up. Except for salamanders and hydromelons. Or monster essence and Hylian rice. And, for the love of Nayru, don't just throw wood in a stove for a quick meal. I once heard of a guy who cooked a star fragment and his urine glittered for a week.

People always expect you to be some kind of hero when you travel the world. Why would I want to free the world from the devastating clutches of Calamity Ganon, under whom countless have died and the world suffers, when I could mix delicate sauces and cook brioche buns? There's always a measure of disrespect associated with the noble art of cooking, which I don't understand at all. It's a bit of a conversation killer with the village girls as well. Conversations usually follow as thus:

" _So, you dashing fellow, what does a strong, ruthlessly handsome Hylian like yourself do for a living?"_

" _Well, sweet cheeks, I am a master chef."_

" _On second thought, I forgot I have something planned for dinner tonight..."_

It's always a bit of a laugh when I turn out to be their chef for the night. A full fist-size chunk of rock salt makes their dishes especially inedible, matching their salty personalities.

The joys of cooking can transcend from Karariko Village to the most humble Bokoblin camp. The latter usually leaves some food behind once I've murdered them all with my butcher's cleaver. Talk about a double whammy! On the flip side, I have an excess of monster intestines, eyeballs, toenails, and every distasteful body part imaginable. Toenails would be an interesting thing to put in a pie to spite those sneaky village girls, now that the thought comes to mind...

The cooking pots don't discriminate, either. You can put just about anything in there. I've personally tried the horns and scales of ancient dragons, escargot (which makes dead snails sound that much more palatable), butterflies, beetles, and thistles, to name a few. As soon as you think something can't be cooked, voila! You've whipped up a cake infused with the spirit of monsters. Once I made a pun to my client that such a pastry was 'scary good,' and then the promptly fired me. I've made an effort to avoid puns from now on.

Speaking of jobs with cooking, they're few and far between. Sometimes you have to... Well... Lower your standards when you're in need of a few spare rupees. Just between you and me, one master chef to the next, I once dressed up as a girl to score a catering job in Gerudo City. Tell no one, or I'll be cast into eternal cooking shame! Fine, if we're being entirely transparent, I was technically cast into cooking shame when I burned that village, but dressing up in girl digs would only thrust me down further on the social ladder. So keep your lips zipped!

Sometimes, if you've cooked a rather nasty dish, your lips will stay zipped for you, whether you like it or not. Courser bee honey is a grave offender of this self-imposed silence – never make a honey danish, or you'll have your mouth glued together for so long that you'll be filed as legally mute. I speak (or rather, I _don't_ speak) from experience.

Budding master chef, the world of our culinary expertise is a dog-eat-dog world. Right, puns. I forgot about that. Anyways, it's rough-and-tumble for those of us who haven't garnered up the guts to push the magic of cooking to its limits. Chunks of wood and Sunshroom mushrooms? Have at it! Carrots and milk? Don't let your dreams be dreams any longer!

Hopefully my cooking manifesto has spurred you on to culinary greatness. Keep these simple tips in mind and you'll be a master chef of my caliber in no time... What do you mean, _I_ should be the one aspiring to be like _you_? I'm the one who gave you these tips, after all! How ungrateful!

If it's not too great of a dream, maybe someday my recipe of failure will be some young chef's recipe of success...

 **RIP Link, not quite the cooking aficionado. Any great recipes you've found for any of you BoTW players?**

 **Oh, as a side note, if you like Marvel, you should check out my newest story _Repulse_! It follows Steve Rogers, Tony Stark and Clint Barton through a steampunk-inspired World War II, and in my totally biased opinion it's pretty great. If you end up reading, drop a review and let me know what you think! :)**

 **Don't forget to add a story _you've_ written in your review so I can check out your amazing work! It's the least I can do if you're reading mine.**

 **Until next time!**


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